


NorMaL

by SuperFrikinAngsty



Category: Next to Normal - Kitt/Yorkey, Supernatural
Genre: Bipolar Disorder, Electroconvulsive Therapy, John Winchester is Not Homophobic, M/M, Mental Illness, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:40:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 25
Words: 20,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25582237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuperFrikinAngsty/pseuds/SuperFrikinAngsty
Summary: As if growing up without a mother wasn't hard enough, Dean Winchester also struggles living with his father - a victim of Bipolar I Depressive Disorder.John Winchester just wants what is best for his family, even if that means seeking treatment in one of the most controversial ways - electroconvulsive therapy (commonly known as ECT or shock therapy).Castiel Novak is just trying to get through college. All he wants is to survive another day."NorMaL" is a story that deals with love and loss, mental illness and the treatments, and the strength of family through anything.It is my goal to constantly update and remodel this story to make it even better. Thanks for reading!
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Kudos: 7





	1. "Prelude / Just Another Day"

**Author's Note:**

> If I ever figure out how to link the Broadway soundtrack to the chapters, I will. For now, please listen to the soundtrack wherever you find your music.

John flicked on the light next to him as his youngest son tried to sneak into the house. “Do you have any idea what time it is?”

“Great. Here we go… Dad–” he sighed, dropping his bag by the door.

“It’s 3:30 in the morning. It’s the seventh night this week I’ve sat until morning waiting for you.” John shook his head. “You know, I’d expect this kind of behavior from your brother, but not you.”

“I was just at a friend’s place.”

“Get over here. I want to make sure that you’re alright.”

“I’m fine, Dad,” he groaned, walking over to his father. “You don’t have to worry this much about me.”

“I’m your father, I have the right to worry,” he replied, standing up and putting his hands on his son’s shoulders as he looked him up and down. “I worried you died.”

“And how did I die tonight? A gang war? Bird flu? Trains colliding?”

John crossed his arms. “An ice storm.”

“Dad, it’s _July_ ,” his son groaned.

“A _freak_ ice storm. It could happen!” he insisted. “But that’s beside the point. You swore you’d come home early, and you lied.”

“You’ve got to let it go, Dad. I’m almost seventeen.”

“Are you snorting coke?!” John stood up.

“Not at the moment,” his son rolled his eyes.

“Dad?” another voice called, this one from downstairs.

“Your brother. Quick, get upstairs,” John whispered, nudging his son up the stairs.

“Why does Dean hate me?”

John sighed. “He doesn’t hate you.”

“He avoids me.”

“He just doesn’t know what to say. Now, go.” His youngest climbed the stairs, glancing back once as his older brother came up from his room.

“Dad, I heard voices. Is everything alright?”

John waved him off. “Just me. Talking to myself, you know. Reading out loud. Go back to sleep.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine,” he smiled. “Go.” John sat down at the desk and opened his journal as Dean disappeared back down the stairs.

_I have the perfect, loving family. They’re so adoring. I love them every day of every week. Though, my youngest son is a little shit and my elder son is boring… Some days I think I’m dying, but I’m really only trying to make it through._

He stared out the window as the day began to break, storm clouds brewing across the horizon.

_It’s a beautiful day. Sure, I mean, it’s cloudy and raining. And really cold for July. But beautiful. Really makes you want to dive in with both feet._

_I have to keep this house together. “Patience and care” is what Mary used to say. I’m just trying to keep my grip in this hustle and hurry. Because what doesn’t kill me… doesn’t kill me. So might as well keep going for just another day._

John closed his journal and began preparing lunch for is sons to take with them. “You’re going to be late, and you’ve got a huge day,” he told his youngest son as he entered the kitchen.

“You have no idea what I do all day,” he rolled his eyes.

“Jazz band before school, class, chess club, then play rehearsal.”

“Not bad,” he smiled before taking his lunch and dodging his brother on his way out the door. John continued making lunch, spreading out slice after slice of bread.

“Morning, Dad,” Dean said, appearing from the stairs. “What, uh, what are you doing there?”

“Making sandwiches,” John replied happily before he sat back. “On… the floor,” he realized slowly. “Um…” John stood up and brushed the breadcrumbs from his hands onto his pants. “I just wanted to get ahead on lunches.”

Dean only sighed before he opened the fridge and grabbed the milk, gasping in annoyance when he realized it was empty. “Who left the empty carton in here?”

John began gathering up the slices of bread. “You know how your brother gets.”

Dean clenched his jaw tightly. “You have an appointment with Dr. Fine this afternoon. So as soon as I get off of work, we’ll go, okay?”

“Sounds good.” Moving on to Plan B for breakfast, Dean pulled out a packet of oatmeal and placed it in the microwave to heat up. The timer beeped noisily at the end of the two minutes.

“You’re going to be late,” John said.

Dean let out a soft string of curses when he looked at his watch. He sprung up, putting his bowl in the sink and patting his father on the shoulder before making his way to the garage. Grabbing the keys to the only car the family owned, Dean climbed into the black vehicle, driving as fast as he could without getting pulled over. Apparently, it wasn’t slow enough.

“License and registration,” the officer said.

“Jody?” Dean asked, looking up.

“Hey, Dean,” she smiled. “How are things going?”

Dean shook his head and sighed. “I swear, I’m living on nothing but a latte and a prayer at this point.”

“How’s your father?”

“To be honest, I never know what he’s talking about.”

“Sorry to hear that.” She paused. “So where you off to in such a rush?”

“I’m late for work and Bobby’s gonna kill me.”

“Tell you what, if you fix up the brakes on my SUV, I’ll forget the whole speeding thing.”

Dean grinned. “I’m sure I can make that work. I’ll send Bobby over with the truck later today, alright?”

“Alright. Get to work, Winchester. And tell Bobby I look forward to his visit.” The sheriff patted the top of his car before she walked away.

“Yes, ma’am,” he grinned before driving off. A few minutes later, he pulled up at the garage, cringing when he saw Bobby watching for him, arms crossed and an eyebrow raised. Dean parked the car and closed his eyes for a moment, sighing again. “Hey, Bobby,” he said, walking past the old man.

“You’re late, boy.”

“I know,” Dean groaned, going to his locker to put on his jumpsuit. “Dad was up until 4 last night, and we were out of milk this morning, so I had to make oatmeal, then I began driving here, but I got pulled over by Jody–”

“Sheriff Mills?” Bobby asked, his ears perking up.

“Yeah,” Dean nodded, brushing past him as he finished buttoning up the coveralls. “She agreed to not give me a ticket if we fixed her brakes. Told her you’d stop by her place today with the tow truck to pick up the SUV.”

“Was she… was she happy about that?”

“She said she was looking forward to your visit,” Dean shrugged as Bobby brightened. “Anyways, got anything in yet?”

Bobby nodded, leading the way into the garage. “Just one,” he replied, pointing to the 1978 Lincoln Continental that sat on the hydraulics. “Broken tie rod. I started it. Think you can handle the rest, or do I need to babysit ya?”

“You know I graduated in May, right?”

“’S that supposed to impress me?” Bobby raised his eyebrow again. “Get to work.”

“Yes, sir,” Dean rolled his eyes, a smile tugging lightly at the corners of his lips. He pulled his tool bench behind him as he ducked underneath the car. Grabbing the parts he would need, he started to work. A little while later, he had finished, grease and oil coating his once clean clothes. He grabbed a rag from the bench, wiping his hands off as he headed towards the lobby of the garage. He ran the back of his arm across his forehead, leaving behind an unknown trail of black grime that had been on the car. “Looks like it’s gonna live,” he joked before he looked up from his clipboard. “Uh…” Dean froze, his breath getting caught in his throat when he saw the owner of the car. The man laughed, his bright blue eyes crinkling. “Beautiful…” Dean whispered before snapping to attention, his cheeks flushing bright red. “The car! The car is beautiful! Not you. Of course, I’m not calling you ugly! You’re actually rather hot… beeeecause of the temperature outside!”

“Smooth recovery, boy!” Bobby yelled from his office.

Dean’s blush darkened as the man smiled wider, causing him to let out a nervous laugh that sounded like a cat preparing to throw up. “I-I’ll just have Bobby take care of getting you–”

“I’m on break!” the manager informed him rather loudly. “I’m watching the game.”

“Bobby, that’s last night’s game.”

_“And?”_

“And you’ve already seen it.”

_“So?”_

“ _So_ you already know who wins, and that means you can help get–”

“Not gonna happen.” Bobby turned up the volume of the television. “I’m gonna watch it again as I enjoy my lunch,” he took a bite out of his sandwich. “Now go get that nice boy’s car and then his phone number.” Dean started to protest, but Bobby shushed him. “You have to at least give him his car back. Either way, I’m not moving.”

The man laughed again as Dean continued to blush furiously. “He’s not… I don’t…” he grabbed the car keys. “I’m gonna go get your car.” He spun on his heel, going back into the garage. He climbed into the vehicle, trying to restrain himself from taking a deep breath. He finally gave in, his lips curling up as he breathed in the scent of the mystery man. _Jesus, I’m a freaking creep…_ he thought, parking the Lincoln in front of the lobby. He met the man outside. “Here’re your keys, Mr.…”

“Novak. Castiel,” he held out his hand for Dean to shake. “But you can call me Cas if you’d like.”

He smiled shyly. “I-I’m Dean. Dean Winchester.”

“I know.”

“You know? That’s a little creepy,” Dean tried to lighten the mood.

“It says your name on your coveralls.”

Dean looked down. “Of course. Of course…”

“You have a little something right…” Cas trailed off, gesturing to his forehead. “Right there.” Dean tried to look at his face, his eyes crossing rather violently. “Let me,” Cas said, pulling a tissue from his pocket and gently scrubbing the mark. “There, all better.”

“Thanks, uh, _Cas_ ,” Dean blushed even darker.

“This is gonna seem forward, but,” Cas scratched the back of his neck, “would you like to grab a drink?”

“I have… work,” he trailed off, doing a double-take when he noticed the blinds to Bobby’s office rustle. He frowned when his phone began ringing, the pair of eyes reappearing in the window. “Hello?”

“Go get some damn coffee with that boy, ya idjit.”

“But–”

“I can handle the shop for an hour. So go away,” he said before hanging up.

Dean shook his head. “I, uh, I guess I’d love to.”

“Great,” Cas beamed. “Care to ride with me?”

Nodding, Dean slid into the passenger’s seat of the Lincoln. “It smells really nice,” he blurted. It was Cas’ turn to blush, his cheeks glowing with a faint dusting of pink. “You know what, I’m just going to shut up.”

Cas laughed softly, sneaking a few side glances towards Dean. He bit his lip and smiled when they arrived at the diner. “Well, we’re here.”

“Yep,” Dean nodded, still sitting in the seat.

“Should we go in?”

“Oh! Oh, right,” Dean scrambled out of the car. “Sorry, I’m just nervous. I haven’t been on a date in a while. If you consider this a date! I don’t mean to imply that’s what you were intending–”

“I’d like it to be a date, but we can go another–”

“No!” Dean cut him off. “No, I wanna go. I mean, we’re here and I _am_ hungry,” he smiled. Cas bit his lip again before smiling back. They entered and sat down at a booth, each ordering a burger and fries. “So, uh, what is it you do?” Dean asked, trying to start a small conversation.

“I’m actually studying to be a lawyer,” Cas said as he took a sip of the water that had been set in front of him.

“That’s… Wow, that’s great, Cas.”

“Thanks,” he smiled. “What about you? Did you always want to be a mechanic?”

Dean shrugged. “I don’t know. I never really had a plan. It was something that I could do to make myself forget, and–”

Castiel’s eyebrows furrowed together. “Forget? Forget what?”

Dean swallowed, lowering his gaze. “I, uh, I lost my mom, Mary, in a house fire when I was four.”

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “If it makes you feel any better, I never really knew my parents. I was put up for adoption before I turned one.”

“Did you get adopted?”

“Yeah, by this man named Chuck and his wife Becky.” He nodded. “They were good to me, but I’ve always wondered what it would’ve been like if I’d known my actual parents, you know?”

“They’re not all that great,” Dean mumbled, raising his glass to his lips.

“Huh?”

“Nothing,” Dean shook his head, switching the subject. “I’m guess I’m just wondering what you’re doing in a little town like this.”

“Passing through,” Cas shrugged. “I was on my way home for the weekend, but the… the _thing_ on my car broke.”

Dean laughed. “The tie rod?”

“Yeah, that!”

They laughed for a moment before Dean spoke up. “Would you… would you ever think about coming back? I mean, eventually. Hypothetically.”

Cas pursed his lips, thinking it over. “If it meant you there, hypothetically, I would definitely have to think about it.” The two smiled at each other as their food arrived, their focus shifting to their grumbling stomachs.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean looked up.

“Yes?”

“Bet I can finish my food before you.”

Cas’ lips curled up into a smirk. “Doubt it, but you’re on, Winchester.”

“Okay, ready? Go!”


	2. "Who's Crazy / My Psychopharmacologist and I"

Dean pulled into the driveway of his home, honking the car horn once. John trudged out of the house, tugging a baseball cap over his eyes. “Hey, Dad,” Dean piped up once his father had gotten into the car. “How was your day?” he asked, turning the radio down.

“Not bad,” his father replied as he put on his seatbelt. “I mainly spent it watching TV and looking at colleges with your brother.”

Dean sighed, nodding. “Did you pick one?”

John shook his head, looking out the window. “No, he still doesn’t know what he wants to study. I keep telling him that he has to start figuring something out because he’s gonna have to begin applying next fall. What about you?”

Dean’s cheeks were covered with a dusting of rose as he backed out of the driveway. “I… met a guy at work.”

“And?” his father prompted.

“And we went to lunch…”

John beamed. “That’s wonderful, Dean! When are we going to meet him?”

“It was probably a one-time thing,” he shook his head, his blush darkening. “I don’t know if I’ll see him again. He was just passing through town.”

“Your mother and I met at a bar. Never thought I’d see her again, but I did. Actually ran into her at our college graduation. Didn’t even know we attended the same school. Thankfully we did,” he smiled. “But don’t worry about it, Dean. If it was meant to be, he’ll come back.”

“Right,” Dean sighed quietly. The rest of the ride was silent until he pulled into the parking lot of the doctor’s office. “Well, we’re here. Do you want me to come in with you, or…?” he trailed off, not making eye contact as the car settled.

John shook his head. “You stay here. I’ll be okay.”

Dean nodded wordlessly, dropping his eyes from the brick in front of him into his lap. “Who’s crazy?” he muttered to himself when his father had gone inside. “The one who can’t cope or the one who still hopes?” He looked back up at the unassuming building. “The one who sees doctors or the one who just waits in the car?”

John walked into the clinic and checked in, only waiting a few minutes before the doctor opened his door. He sat down on the worn-out couch. “Afternoon, Doctor.”

“How are you doing today, John?” Dr. Fine asked, skipping all niceties.

“I’m alright. My youngest and I were looking at colleges today.”

“And how is that going?” the doctor scribbled notes furiously on his clipboard, trying to copy down every word that John had spoken.

John nodded. “Quite well, actually. His grades are good enough to get him into anywhere he wants.”

“Good to hear.” They talked for nearly an hour before Dr. Fine changed the subject. “Now, we need to go over a few of your new prescriptions,” he put aside his clipboard and pulled out a large bag of pill bottles. John’s mind began taking over the instructions he was hearing, making the doctor sound absolutely ridiculous. _“Take the round blue ones with food, but not with the oblong white ones. The white ones with the round yellow ones, but not the trapezoidal green ones. Split the green ones into thirds with a tiny chisel, use a mortar and pestle to grind it into a fine powder. Sprinkle the powder over a bowl of ice cream...”_

John nodded along, his focus soon wandering away from the growing list of medicine as the doctor continued to ramble on about his new prescriptions. _“Isn’t it weird how he knows my deepest secrets and I know his… name?”_ It didn’t matter if he listened anyways, the meds never worked. He’d been on them for 16 years and nothing had changed. He plastered a fake smile onto his face as Dr. Fine handed him the bag. “Thank you.”

“See you next week,” the doctor waved him out the door. The days continued to fly by as normally as could be expected. John took the medicines as prescribed, but they didn’t do much. Not that he was surprised.

***

“Winchester, John; bipolar depressive with delusional episodes. Sixteen year history of medication. Adjustment after one week,” Dr. Fine spoke into a small recorder.

John took a breath. “I’ve got less anxiety, but I have headaches, blurry vision, and I can’t feel my toes.”

Dr. Fine nodded along as he wrote down John’s symptoms. “So we will try again and eventually we’ll get it right.”

“It isn’t a very exact science, is it?” John smiled coldly, boredom and annoyance lacing his tone as he leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms.

“Unfortunately, no,” Dr. Fine shook his head and laughed a little. “There is nothing we can do to completely cure mental illness, so we just have to keep trying different combinations of medication to lessen the symptoms.” He smiled encouragingly, “You don’t have to worry, though. We’ll figure it out. This week, I think we’ll try adding something else to your prescription, if that’s alright.”

“Can’t imagine why it wouldn’t be,” he sighed. The doctor handed John the new pill bottle. “Oh, thank you, Doctor,” he read the label. “Valium is my favorite color. How’d you know?” he asked sarcastically. His doctor only smiled, ushering him out the door.

John left the small building and eased himself into the black car waiting for him. “Look, I know this is going to take some getting used to,” Dean said as they drove home, “but trust me. The meds are only going to help. It’ll get better with time, I promise.”

“What if it doesn’t?” John raised his eyes to meet his son’s. “What if it doesn’t get better? What if I stay crazy for the rest of my life?”

Dean forced a smile, focusing his attention to the road. “We’ll cross that bridge _if_ we get to it. But for now, we don’t need to worry. This is going to turn out great, I can feel it. Look, I have to get back to work, but we can talk more tonight, okay?”

“Okay.” John stepped out of the car, closing the door lightly behind him.

Waving, Dean turned back around. He arrived back at the garage within ten minutes, hopping out of the car and rolling the sleeves of his jumpsuit back to his elbows as he slid beneath the current project on the hydraulics. He lost track of the time as he worked in silence, only turning his head when he heard a pair of footsteps approach him. He frowned when he noticed that it wasn’t Bobby; the shoes were all wrong. Pushing himself out from under the car, he met eyes with the man. “Cas!” he sat up quickly, slamming his forehead into the exhaust pipe of the car.

“Dean?!” Cas fell to his knees next to Dean’s groaning form, pulling a clean rag from Dean’s pocket to gently press to the bleeding cut on his brow. “Dean, come on, let’s sit you up.”

“What happened?”

Cas chuckled a little as he guided Dean’s hand to hold the rag in place. “You saw me and then knocked yourself out on the exhaust pipe.”

“I’m surprised you know what that is,” Dean teased lightly as Cas helped him stand up.

“I’m not completely inept when it comes to cars.”

“Right. You’re just _mostly_ inept.” He groaned again, closing his eyes.

“Oh, eat me,” Cas rolled his eyes.

Dean’s eyes flew open as he flushed a dark shade of pink before gathering his courage. “Well… if you insist.”

It was Castiel’s turn to blush, dropping his eyes from the determined gaze of the man next to him. “I… I’m not…”

Dean winced, pushing himself to his feet. “What are you doing back in town, anyways?” he extended his free hand to help Cas up.

“Well, I did say that as long as you were in town, I would maybe come back sometime. My summer classes are ending soon, so I thought that we could maybe go out again before my fall ones start.”

“I’d really like that,” Dean smiled. “Here’s my number… just give me a call when you’re free. And give me some warning next time so I don’t embarrass myself in front of you.”

Cas smiled, taking the card. “Count on it.”

***

“Winchester, John; second adjustment after three weeks. Delusions less frequent, but depressive state worse,” he reiterated as John finished speaking.

“I’m nauseous and I’m constipated. Completely lost my appetite, and gained six pounds. Which, you know, is just not fair,” John complained.

“So, we’ll try again. Eventually we’ll find the right combination for you.” He swiveled around in his chair to face his desk, picking up a new bottle. “This is something that’s rather new, it’s only been in circulation for about three years. Patients have reported a significant decrease in delusional episodes, as well as depression, however…” the doctor trailed off.

“However…?” John prompted.

“Use may be fatal. It’s still being tested, although it has been approved for general use. We’re working out the last bugs,” he smiled tightly.

John nodded somberly, taking the bottle. “Thank you.” He tucked it into his pocket before walking outside. He climbed into the car where Dean was waiting.

“So?” Dean asked, trying to glean any information from his father about his current condition.

“They gave me some new stuff.”

“Is that good?” Dean scratched at the small scar that now puckered his forehead.

He pursed his lips and sighed. “It could kill me.”

Dean blinked in surprise, dropping his hand. “What?”

“This new stuff that they want me to try, it… it could be fatal.”

“Dad, that’s ridiculous. You probably misheard him or something. I mean, they wouldn’t give you something if it was dangerous.”

“I hope so…” Dean glanced down at his phone as it dinged, the screen lighting up with a text from Cas. “Is this the boy you’ve been talking about?” John asked, smiling.

Dean blushed, smiling. “Yeah.”

“Well, what does it say?”

Dean’s smile fell when he read the message. “He says he won’t be coming back…”

“For how long?”

“At least a year.” Dean clenched his jaw and threw his phone in the backseat, turning on the car and speeding away from the office.

***

“Winchester, John; third adjustment after five weeks. Reports continue mild anxiety and some lingering depression.”

“I now can’t feel my fingers _or_ my toes,” John shook his head. “I sweat profusely for no reason…”

“We’re getting close,” Dr. Fine insisted. “Have you had any delusions since we last saw each other?”

“I don’t think so. But sometimes it’s so hard to tell what’s real and what’s not.”

Dr. Fine nodded. “I understand.”

 _“Oh, you do?”_ John thought bitterly. _“What could you possibly understand about what I’ve been through?”_

“And so as long as the meds seem to be working, that’s all we really need to care about. We can just tweak some doses and I’m confident that you’ll be back to normal in no time.”

 _“_ Define _normal,”_ John shook his head.

***

“Winchester, John; seven weeks.”

John sat on the couch, his knees pressed together and his hands folded in his lap. “I don’t feel like myself,” he spoke softly. Dr. Fine raised an eyebrow, encouraging him to continue. “I mean, I don’t feel… _anything_.”

“Huh,” the doctor remarked, clicking his pen closed and preparing to turn off his recorder. “Patient stable.”

***

Dean sat down at the kitchen table across from his father. “Dad, this is good. You’re not seeing things anymore.”

“But I don’t _feel_ anything, either.”

“I know what you mean,” he mumbled, glancing at his phone, even though he knew there would be no messages.

John reached across the tabletop, putting a hand on Dean’s. He smiled a little. “He’ll call, Dean.”

“How can you be so sure?” Dean asked, looking back up.

“Because if there’s one thing in this world that I know for sure, it’s that you are absolutely head over heels for this boy.” John patted Dean’s hand. “I know it will work out.”

“But _how_?” Dean persisted.

“I just know,” John smiled, his eyes sparkling. “I just know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please seek help if you're suffering from depression, anxiety, mania, or anything else. The world is the best it can be when we're all in it.


	3. "Perfect for You"

Dean entered the workshop, a bright smile on his face. “What’re you so excited about?” Bobby questioned, raising an eyebrow. “Thought you were in some funk about that boy.”

“I guess I still am, but Dad’s been on these new meds for a few weeks now and he’s doing great.” He shook his head. “I don’t know what’s in those things, but they are little miracles.” He laughed as Bobby roughly patted his back. “What’s on the agenda for today?”

“Cleaning up the garage.” Dean groaned in response. “Hey, you’re the one who made the mess. The time has come for you to clean it up.” He held out cleaning supplies and grinned.

Grumbling softly, Dean grabbed the squeegee from Bobby and propped it against the wall with the hose. After spraying down the floor, he realized that it was going to take more than water to clean the cement of the gas and oil stains that littered its surface. He sighed and turned the hose off before making his way to the storage room. He dug around for a few minutes, and when he didn’t find what he was looking for, he sighed as he made his way to the front lobby. “Hey, Bob, where’s the oil absorbent stuff–” he stopped. “Cas.” Their eyes locked for a moment. “What… what are you doing here?”

Cas looked down and began playing with the belt of his jacket. “My… my car broke down and–”

“We’re the closest tow,” Dean nodded, avoiding eye contact. “I’ll find Bobby for you. He’s the one who does the hauls.” As he turned away, he was stopped by a hand on his arm. He glanced back and saw that Cas still wouldn’t look at him. “What.”

“I’m sorry.”

Dean clenched his jaw and shrugged his arm from Castiel’s grip. “Bobby, someone wants–”

“I’m on break,” his boss informed him, stuffing another bite of a doughnut into his mouth.

Dean promptly turned on his heel to leave the office, too annoyed to argue. “Looks like I’ll be your mechanic for the afternoon,” he plastered on a fake smile. Cas giggled softly, earning a real smile from Dean for a moment. “Let’s go get the creepy pile of steel you call a car,” he grabbed the truck’s keys.

“Hey!” Cas exclaimed, following behind him. “I happen to love that car!”

Dean rolled his eyes. “I’ll bet you do.”

Cas narrowed his eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Cas,” Dean shook his head as he hopped into the tow truck, “it looks like a damn pedo car. That and your outfit… I’m surprised you haven’t been shot.”

“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

“Dude, it’s a trench coat. You look like a creep.”

“At least I don’t look like I just broke out of a governmental prison!” Cas fired at him.

“I’m sorry, I don’t want to get your car’s shit on my clothes !” he spat back, parking the truck in front of Cas’ car. The two glared at each other for a moment before Cas grabbed the collar of Dean’s suit, yanking their lips together. After getting over his initial shock, Dean kissed back. “Wait,” he shook his head. “We can’t! Not with my life. I’m like one fuck up away from disaster.”

“Your life is not a disaster,” Cas whispered, kissing him again.

“Why are you doing this to me?” Dean asked, trying to catch his breath once they had split apart.

“Because my student loans are going to kill me, and I had to do that at least once before I died.”

“So what did _that_ mean?” Dean asked angrily. “You can’t just kiss someone for the hell of it! You have got to have some nerve…” his voice was barely a whisper.

“What?”

“You make me think that I have a chance with you, then remind me that I’ll never see you again!” He scrubbed away a couple of stray tears as he jumped out of the truck’s cab.

Cas followed closely behind him. “You think I’m leading you on?”

“I don’t know what else to think!” Dean spun around to face him.

“I was trying to tell you I love you!”

“ _What_?!” Dean’s eyes widened. “We’ve only met three times! And we went on _one_ date, like, three months ago !”

“Two and a half,” Cas mumbled before running a hand through his hair. “I can’t help but feel like we were made to be together. Look, I know it sounds crazy, but it’s not as crazy as the fact that our planet is dying as we speak.”

“Cas, this is one _fucked up_ seduction.”

“I know,” he sighed. “I know, but give me a chance. I could be perfect for you.”

Dean shook his head. “You’re leaving.”

“No.”

“What?”

“I enrolled in an online school. I just want the chance to be something in this world that won’t hurt.”

“This sounds like a disaster.”

Cas laughed. “This would not be a disaster. Our environment is a disaster. _Sprint_ is a disaster!”

A snicker escaped Dean’s lips. “American politics are a disaster.”

A wide smile broke out across Cas’ features. “That’s true. So give me a chance. Please.”

“One,” Dean said after a minute of silence. “One more date. And don’t make me regret it,” he said as he walked towards the car.

“Oh, my car… it’s actually fine,” Cas said sheepishly.

“What?” Dean stopped walking.

“I called the shop to talk to you, but your uncle picked up and suggested that I get you out of the garage to talk to you.”

“Bobby, you son of a bitch,” Dean growled, pulling out his cell phone.

“It worked, didn’t it?” Bobby scoffed when he answered the phone.

“That’s not the point!”

“Oh, shut up, ya idjit. I agree with that boy’s idea of you two bein’ together. Cutest damn thing I ever saw, the two of you all smilin’ at each other and whatnot.”

“So you come up with this stupid plan to do what, exactly?” Dean placed his free hand on his hip.

“To go out to lunch with him,” Bobby replied, obviously rolling his eyes. “If he just came in and asked you, would you’ve said yes?”

Dean sighed. “No.”

“Well, there you go. That’s why we came up with the plan. Now go get some food with that poor boy before you lose out on something good.”

“Bobby, I–”

“You’re welcome. But make sure that date doesn’t last all day; you still have a garage to finish cleaning.”

Dean sighed, hanging up the phone. “I guess the question now is what’s for lunch?”

“I was thinking pizza?”

Dean shrugged. “Sure, that sounds okay. I’ll meet you back at the garage, we can take my car.” He shot a final glance at the gold vehicle.

“I seem to recall that you didn’t have an issue with my car three months ago,” Cas winked. “I also remember that you said it smelled nice.”

“No, I… Shut up!” Dean blushed furiously as he stomped back to the tow truck. He heard Cas’ laughter behind him, a small smile gracing his lips as he looked at his keys. “Just hurry up,” he threw over his shoulder.

Castiel rolled his eyes, following behind the black truck. When they parked, he walked alongside Dean as he led them to his car. “Woah,” Cas gasped. “What is it?”

Dean grinned, running a hand across her shiny exterior. “Baby is a 1967 Chevrolet Impala. She used to be Dad’s, but when his license was re–” he stopped. “She’s mine now.”

“She’s gorgeous, Dean.” Cas took a seat, looking around when he heard a rattling noise. “Dean, what’s that sound?”

“Legos,” he replied.

Cas waited for an explanation, but when he wasn’t given one, he had to prompt it from Dean. “Where? Why?”

“When I was a kid, I stuffed them in the vents. Dad didn’t like music, and I needed something to fill the silence,” he shrugged. “Eventually, you don’t even hear them anymore. They kind of just… fade away.”

Cas looked over and saw a sad, faraway look enter Dean’s eyes. He bit his lip and looked down at his lap, noticing the ashtray. “Are these…?”

His voice snapped Dean out of his mind, “Yeah. I got bored easily as a kid and decided that that ashtray was the perfect trench for my soldiers.” He smiled a little. “Unfortunately, they got stuck. Several rescue attempts had been made, but none would’ve succeeded without injuring my men.”

The man in the passenger seat laughed. “I’m sorry…”

Dean parked the car in front of the pizzeria. “Nah, there was nothing you could’ve done.” He looked at Cas and smiled. “Pizza?”

“Pizza.”

“Tell me more about your family,” Cas said once they had sat down.

Dean shifted uncomfortably. “There really isn’t any more to tell.”

“Do you have any siblings?”

“What is your opinion about pineapple on pizza?” Dean asked, quickly changing the subject.

“Well… I think that it’s a matter of personal preference. It doesn’t matter to me what you want on your pizza,” Cas shrugged, picking up on Dean’s panic. A movement outside the window caught his attention. “Look,” he slowly pointed at the animal.

Dean squinted his eyes as he tried to identify the bug. “It’s a… wasp?” Cas’ expression turned unamused. “Hornet?”

“It’s a honeybee, Dean,” Cas clarified. “They’re going extinct.”

“That’s true, and I totally care…” Dean made a confused face. “I think.”

“You _should_ care, because they’re what are keeping the Earth from sinking in the ocean.”

“Cas, that doesn’t make sense. The oceans are _on_ the Earth.”

Cas waved a hand towards him. “Same difference, you knew what I meant.”

The two of them continued to bicker over the insect during lunch, earning a few stares from the other patrons of the restaurant. When they had finally paid the tab and gotten back into the Impala, it was half past three. Dean looked at his watch and cursed. “Son of a bitch, Bobby is so going to fire me,” he shook his head.

“What’s wrong?”

“I didn’t realize we had been talking so long,” Dean sighed. “I was probably supposed to be back at work a couple hours ago.”

“I’m sorry, Dean, I didn’t mean to make you late­–”

Dean took a breath, then smiled. “You know what? It doesn’t matter.”

“It doesn’t?”

“Nope.”

Cas frowned. “Why not?”

“One: because I’m his nephew and his only employee, and two: because I had a great time this afternoon, I couldn’t care less if he yelled at me.”

A light blush crossed Cas’ cheeks. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You should,” Dean beamed. “Give me one second to grab an apology sandwich, then we’ll head back to the garage,” he said as they pulled up in front of his house. “Be right back.” He opened the door and stepped out, but before he could close it, Cas spoke up.

“It’s a beautiful house,” he commented. “Can I come in?”

Dean laughed loudly before sobering up. “Oh, my… No.” He slammed the car door and walked into the house. He was only gone for about five minutes before he reappeared with a paper bag. “Thanks, Dad,” he called back into the house. “Alright, let’s get these back to Bobby so he’ll hopefully forget everything that’s happened.” Dean sighed as he sat back into the driver’s seat. “You know what? Cas, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude, it’s just that my family is… a mess. I don’t want you to have to get in the middle of our drama.”

“I understand,” Cas said as he took one last glance at the house, sensing eyes on him. When he couldn’t find the source of the feeling, he shrugged and turned his attention back to the street in front of him.

John straightened up, closing the miniature gap he had created in the curtains as Dean left back through the garage. “Are you spying on your own son?” a voice piped up from behind him, muffled through a mouthful of a sandwich that remained on the kitchen counter.

“He seems so happy…” John shook his head, turning around and meeting his son’s eyes. “How did I miss this?”

“Well… You kind of miss a lot.”

John glanced back at the curtains over his shoulder. “You think they’re in love?”

“Who knows? They’re young. Probably horny.”

“Watch your mouth, young man! That is crazy.”

“Maybe it is,” he shrugged, taking another bite and leaving his father alone.


	4. "I Miss the Mountains"

John sighed as Dean opened the front door. “I’ll call you later, Cas. I love you.” He couldn’t hear the response, but he could hear Dean give his boyfriend a quick kiss before he closed the door. “Oh, hey, Dad,” he smiled once he entered the kitchen. “You didn’t need to wait up for me.”

“Yes I did,” John stood up. “I worry when you boys are out late.”

“Well I’m fine, so why don’t you get to bed. It’s 12:30 in the morning.”

Nodding, his father turned to climb upstairs. “Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“How long have you and this boy been going out?”

Dean bit his lip in thought. “I’m not sure, but it’s probably somewhere around six months by now. Why?”

“Just curious. You two seem quite happy together.”

“We are,” Dean smiled brightly. “And Cas is studying to be a lawyer, so once he finishes college, he’ll move into town to start his own practice.”

“Sounds like you two have your lives planned out, huh?”

Dean scoffed. “Far from it, but we’re trying.” He yawned. “I’ll see you in the morning, okay?”

“Okay.”

Dean rose early the next morning, cracking his back as he stretched in bed. He flipped onto his stomach as he reached to check his phone. There were no new messages, so he climbed out of the warm blankets to get some breakfast in him before he went over to Cas’ place to help him study. He winced as the sunlight hit his eyes, causing the scar on his forehead to throb. “Ugh,” he groaned, trying to rub the pressure away, but to no avail. Dean let out a few soft grunts as he opened the medicine cabinet and began to dig around.

“Whatcha looking for?” his brother asked, coming up behind him.

“Where’s the damn aspirin?” he mumbled.

“Maybe check behind Dad’s Adderall or Xanax.”

After pushing a few more bottles around, Dean located the painkiller. He threw a couple in his mouth, immediately regretting it, as he hadn’t poured a glass of water yet. He made a few noises of panic before he stuck out his tongue with the pills on it, rushing to the sink. He grabbed the nearest cup, not caring who used it last. Quickly filling it up, he swallowed several gulps of water to wash down the pills. “Blegh,” he made a gagging noise.

“That was my glass,” he brother smirked.

“That’s disgusting,” he shook his head. Before leaving, Dean scribbled a quick note to his father, reminding him where he was going to be and how to reach him.

His brother crossed his arms. “Dad’s not five. He can remember your phone number.” Dean acted as if he couldn’t hear, grabbing a light jacket and the car keys as he left the house.

John entered the kitchen. “Is Dean up yet?”

“Just left,” came the bitter reply. “He left a note.”

“How considerate!” John picked up the slip of paper and smiled. “He even put his cell phone number on here.”

“That’s great, Dad.”

“What’s wrong with it?”

“Dean treats you like a baby! It’s like he doesn’t trust you.”

“He’s just looking out for me, and I appreciate it. But he also needs me to look out for him. But I’m not there…” John sighed when he looked at the pile of medications he had to take. “Look at them,” he shook his head. “Seems my wild days are past, but…” he sighed again.

“But what?”

“I miss the mountains. I miss the highs and lows of being free.”

His son shook his head. “I don’t get it.”

“I miss the _mountains_ ,” John tried again. His son shrugged. “I miss the manic days and the depressing nights. I miss the pain.”

“Oh, I see… but those ‘mountains’ made you crazy. At least, that’s what the doctors said.”

“Right, and on these, I’m supposed to be safe and sound. Everything is _balanced_ here and on an even heel…”

“Everything is perfect,” he was offered.

“Yes, but nothing’s _real_.” John picked up the closest bottle of pills and held them for a minute. “I miss my life…” He eyes glanced towards the garbage.

His son turned to look, then got up to grab the basket. He held it in front of him as John emptied bottle after bottle of his medications. When he was finished, he looked up. “You sure about this, Dad?”

“You think it’s a bad idea?”

The boy shook his head. “I think it’s a great idea!”

“What will your brother think?” John worried.

“Nothing,” he was reassured as his youngest took the garbage to the garage. “If he doesn’t know,” he added, just before he disappeared.

John sighed. _What was he going to do with that boy?_

Dean came home late in the evening, utterly exhausted. “I swear, if I have to hear the word ‘objection’ one more time, I’m gonna freak.”

“Objection! Objection! Ob-jeck-shun!” his brother yelled, dancing around.

“Stop it!” John hissed.

“Huh?” Dean lifted his head over the door from inside the refrigerator.

“Not you.”

Dean nodded, disappearing again. “Oh.”

“But I’d like to hear how your study date went.”

Dean pulled a beer from the fridge. “Honestly, I don’t even want to talk about it.”

“Hey, no alcohol until you’re of age,” John scolded his son.

“I turned 21 three months ago,” he said softly. “You forgot.”

“Dean, I… I’m sorry.”

“Yeah… look, it’s been a long day. I’m just gonna crash in my room.”

John nodded. “Alright. I-I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Night, Dad.”

“Goodnight, Dean.”


	5. "It's Gonna Be Good"

Dean’s phone rang at 10:36 am, an exhausted moan escaping from his lips before he answered the call. “Hello?”

“I’m sorry, did I wake you up?”

“No, Cas, it’s fine. I should’ve been awake anyways.”

“You sure?” he asked.

Dean smiled, running a hand through his bedhead. “I’m sure, Cas.”

“Are we still on for a movie and lunch?”

“You bet,” Dean sat up and hopped out of bed. “Just give me an hour to get ready and I’ll come pick you up, okay?”

“Would it be alright if I met you at your house?”

Dean paused for a moment, one pant leg still tangled around his foot as he hopped towards the bathroom. “Cas, I…” he sighed, stopping to lean against the wall as he shook the pajamas off of his ankle. “Sure. I’ll just wait outside for you.”

“Oh, okay.” Dean pretended not to hear the disappointment in his voice.

“Cas?”

“Yeah?”

“You know I love you, don’t you?”

Cas laughed softly. “Yes, I know. I love you, too.”

“Alright, I’m gonna hop in the shower here, so I’m gonna have to hang up. Call you when I’m done.” He said goodbye to his boyfriend before turning on the water, letting it flow in hot streams across his back and chest. He gave Cas an extended time limit, just so he would be able to stand beneath the spray for just a little while longer. When the water finally turned cold, he stepped out and wrapped one towel around his waist while scrubbing another one across his hair.

“Way to use all the hot water, jerk,” his brother grumped as he entered the bathroom Dean had just vacated.

Dean began humming to himself, walking back down the hall towards his bedroom. Throwing on the closest pair of jeans and a fresh t-shirt, he headed up the stairs to the kitchen. “Were you the one who just spent a half-hour in the shower?” his father frowned at him.

“Who else?” Dean smirked. “If I’m paying the bills, I can sit in the shower for however long I damn well please.”

John sighed. “Dean, I never wanted you to grow up this fast. It’s just that I–”

“I get it, Dad. And it’s okay, really.” He shrugged. “I’m used to it.”

“You shouldn’t have to be.”

Dean glanced at the time. “Look, I have a date with Cas in about fifteen minutes. I don’t want to argue with you, but it’s seriously okay. It gives me something to do.” He smiled and patted his father on the shoulder before taking his jacket from the newel and bounding out the door. He sat on the front step of his house and waited for about ten minutes before he saw Cas’ car come down the street. He stood, a smile breaking out across his features. As soon as the car stopped, he jumped in the passenger seat and planted a kiss on his boyfriend’s cheek. “Hey, baby.”

Cas blushed, smiling. “Hello, Dean.”

“So, what’re we watching today?”

“I know you said no chick flicks, but–”

“We’re going to see one?”

Cas shrugged a little. “I heard there was a really good–”

Dean looked down and entwined their hands together. “I’ll go. But only for you,” he added quickly.

Cas turned his head some and smiled, raising an eyebrow. “I’m flattered.” Dean blushed a little, casting his gaze back down at their hands. “We have two options, lunch first or lunch after.”

“Both?” Dean tilted his head.

Cas shook his head and laughed. “ _Both_?”

“Both.”

“Both is good,” he said after a pause.

Dean raised a fist in the air. “Yes!”

Cas stopped the car in the parking lot of the movie theater, the two of them walking into the 50s themed diner that stood right across the lot. When they pushed open the doors, they were greeted by a waitress with a bright smile as she led them to a booth. “Oh, I love this song!” Cas exclaimed as an old ballad by Elvis started to play.

“Really?” Dean asked. “I guess you don’t strike me as much of an Elvis fan.”

“Should I be flattered?” Cas asked, glancing down at the menu.

Dean shrugged. “Maybe. And come on, put the menu away,” he rolled his eyes. “We’re obviously getting burgers.” The young woman returned. “We’ll take two bacon cheeseburgers, please.”

Cas raised a challenging eyebrow to Dean as the waitress turned to him as if to confirm the order. “Actually, I’ll take the chicken noodle soup,” he deadpanned, staring Dean directly in the eyes.

“You monster,” he whispered, shaking his head. “And to think I trusted you.”

Cas sighed and rolled his eyes, sipping at the glass of water that was set before him. After a few minutes of Dean leaning back in the booth with his arms crossed and lower lip jutted out, Cas leaned forward onto the table, his chin resting in the palm of his hand. “You done yet?”

“No,” Dean moped, pulling the hood of his sweatshirt over his eyes.

“Fine, then I guess I’ll just leave,” Cas threatened, moving to stand up.

“Fine,” Dean retorted.

“You _do_ remember that I’m your ride, don’t you?”

“Ugh,” he finally sat up.

Cas snickered before he sat back down. “Will a milkshake make up for it?”

Dean shrugged. “A little.”

Cas stood up again and kissed Dean’s forehead as he passed by. When he returned a few minutes later, he was carrying a glass of the cold drink, with two straws poking out from the top. “Think you’d be willing to share?”

“Gross, you have germs!” Dean exclaimed, but a bright smile was breaking out across his features.

“Then how would you feel if I did this…?” Cas taunted, leaning over the table to kiss Dean’s lips.

He chuckled before kissing his boyfriend back. “I’d have to say I feel strangely warm and fuzzy. Must be your germs working their way into my system.”

“Or maybe it means you love me,” he smirked.

Dean nodded, “Maybe.” The two of them smiled at each other as the waitress returned with their meals. “Thank you,” he flashed her a flirty grin. Cas’ face flushed with jealousy. “Cas,” Dean returned his attention to the man across from him. “I love _you_. Don’t forget that.” Cas dropped his head in embarrassment, swirling his spoon through his soup. Dean reached across the table and grabbed his boyfriend’s hand. “How’s your not-burger?”

Cas scoffed a little, raising his eyes. “It’s good. And it’s healthier than the grease-trap you have on your plate.”

“Well at least I’ll die happy,” Dean let go of Cas’ hand as he picked up the burger. The two of them ended up talking for much longer than they had planned, missing the movie. They would’ve talked longer, however John called Dean’s phone, asking if he’d be home for dinner. “Yeah, sure, Dad. Cas and I will leave now. Yep, I’ll see you in a bit.” He hung up and the two of them drove back to Dean’s house in relative silence.

Cas got out behind Dean, following him up the front steps. “When am I going to see you again?”

“I’m off on Tuesday. We could go out after you’re done with–”

John suddenly yanked open the front door, startling Dean and Cas. “Boys! I hope you’re hungry, because I made dinner!”

“Dad, Cas really can’t stay,” Dean tried to pull Cas back. “He has homework.”

“Nonsense,” John ushered his son’s boyfriend into the house.

“Well, he can’t eat because he has surgery tomorrow,” he followed behind them, his voice loudly interjecting into whatever conversation John was trying to start.

“No, I don’t,” Cas frowned.

“He has Ebola!” Dean was desperate to get Cas out of the house as soon as possible.

John rolled his eyes. “Dean, stop it. This dinner is long overdue, and you can’t hide your boyfriend from me forever.”

“I agree,” Cas said, frowning slightly at Dean. “Can you show me the bathroom?”

Dean sighed. “Yeah. Come on.” They walked downstairs and stopped outside the bathroom door. “Here you go.”

Castiel pushed him into the bathroom and locked the door behind him before he turned to face Dean, crossing his arms. “Your father seems like a really nice guy, Dean. Why don’t you want me here?” His voice dropped to a whisper. “Is it because you’re embarrassed by me?”

“What?” Dean gasped. He grabbed Cas gently by the shoulders and lifted his chin. “Of course not. I _love you_. It’s just that my dad has,” he paused, “ _problems_. And they can be pretty scary to some people. I guess I just don’t want to frighten you off.”

“What does your dad have?”

Dean sighed, scratching the back of his neck. “He was diagnosed with Bipolar I a little over 16 years ago.”

Cas smiled gently and stood on his toes to place a soft kiss on Dean’s forehead. “Don’t worry about me. It’ll take a lot more than that to scare me away.” Dean grinned back as the two of them made their way back upstairs. They sat down around the table, the scent of dinner surrounding them. “Oh, this smells wonderful, Mr. Winchester,” Cas said as John sat the plates down on the table.

“Please, call me John.” He pulled his chair in behind him. “I’m sorry you didn’t get to meet the whole family.”

Cas nodded a little. “Me too.”

“So, Dad, anything exciting happen today?” Dean asked as he twisted some alfredo onto his fork.

“No, not really. But you, Castiel, we’ve heard so much about you.”

Cas blushed. “All good things, I hope.”

Dean smiled and nudged him gently. “Of course it’s good things.”

“Dean won’t stop talking about how proud he is about your plans to become a lawyer. In fact,” John started.

“Dad, don’t do this–”

“Because of you, Dean’s younger brother is now certain that he wants to go to law school. He even plans to apply to Stanford in the fall. I’m sorry you missed him, but he’s out with some friends for his birthday. My little boy turns 17 today.”

“Wow, I’m honored,” Cas smiled, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “But I didn’t know that Dean has a little brother.”

Dean had tensed up the moment John brought his brother into the conversation. He was gripping his fork so tightly that his knuckles turned white, his jaw set firmly and his fingernails biting into his palm. “That’s because I don’t.” Cas froze as the expression on John’s face shifted into a deep sadness. “He died 16 years ago in the same fire that killed my mom.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh SHIT
> 
> PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE comment on that twist! It was one of my favorites in the show.


	6. "He's Not Here"

“Dean, I don’t… I don’t understand,” Cas shook his head.

His boyfriend wouldn’t meet his eyes. “I think you should leave.”

“But I–”

“Cas, please,” his voice cracked slightly. “Just go.”

Cas nodded, slowly standing up. “It… was a pleasure to meet you,” he spoke softly in the direction of John.

Within several minutes, there were only two men left in the house. Neither once spoke for what seemed like house, and it was Dean who finally broke the silence. “He’s not here. Dad, I know you know.” John shook his head, running a hand down his face. “Do you feel that he’s still real?”

“Dean, I know he’s gone.”

“Then why do you still believe he’s here? Why do you still grieve?”

“He was my son!”

“He was my baby brother! You’re not the only one who wakes up in the middle of the night, praying to God that the fire was just a dream! But it wasn’t! They’re dead, Dad!” Dean had stood up, and was clenching his fists, even though they were lowered at his sides. “You’ve got to let them go… They’ve been dead 16 years, Dad. He’s not here.”


	7. "You Don't Know / I am the One"

John took a deep breath and stood up, slowly clearing the table. Dean was still standing behind his chair, his head hung below his shoulders. “What about the new meds?” he asked.

His father turned on the sink, filling it with soapy water. “We have the happiest septic tank on the block.”

“Jesus, Dad!” Dean straightened up angrily. “They were working!”

“They weren’t,” John said softly as he shook his head and began cleaning a plate. “Not really.”

Dean bit the inside of his cheek to calm his anger. “I know this is hard–hell, I’m still grieving, too–but you have to–”

“You know?” John turned around. “What exactly do you _know_?”

“You’re not the only one who lost everything in the fire!” Dean exploded. “I lost my family in the fire, too! And believe it or not, you and I are all who’s left, and neither you or I can change that!”

John pointed an accusatory finger at his son. “You were barely a child yourself, what could you possibly remember?”

“Enough,” Dean spat, venom and horror lacing his tone. “In fact, I probably remember too much.” His voice became thick, tears clearly heard through his words. “I remember too much…”

“But you still don’t _know_! You don’t wake up in the morning feeling jealous of the dead!”

“You’re wrong,” Dean whispered. “I know what it’s like to die alive. I know that tomorrow terrifies you, but you’ll die if you look back. _You_ don’t know.”

John shook his head. “How can you say that you know, when you say let go? You don’t have the sensation that you’re screaming, but you never make a sound–”

“How about the feeling that you’re falling, but you never hit the ground,” Dean locked eyes with his father. “It just keeps on rushing at me day by day… Do you have any idea what it’s like to live that way?” He picked up the plate in front of him, clenching it tightly with both hands. “It’s like I’m a fugitive who’s forever on the run. If it gets me, it will kill me,” his grip got tighter with each word that he spoke, “but I don’t know what I’ve done!”

Shards of ceramic flew across the kitchen.

Dean stood, breathing heavily, his hands bleeding from the broken plate as John slowly began to collect the pieces. “Dean–”

“What are you afraid of?” Dean asked, his voice hoarse. “Why are you afraid to let him go?”

“I don’t know,” John answered truthfully.

“What happened? You’ve been fine for so long.”

“I guess I’m just holding on.”

“And you won’t let go.”

“I can’t.”

“Why?” Dean was shouting again. “In case you haven’t noticed, _I’m_ the one who’s always been there! _I_ am the one who’s helped you!” He shook his head. “But you still don’t know who I am.”

“That’s not true!”

“Oh, yeah? Where do I work?”

“A shop.”

“What kind?”

“A fix-it one. For cars.”

“Who’s my boss?”

“What?”

“Who. Is. My. Boss?”

John shook his head angrily. “Why should I know that?”

“Because I’ve worked for him for almost three years. Because he hired me before I graduated.” Dean scoffed humorlessly. “Because he was in your wedding. Because he’s your sister-in-law’s husband.”

“Robbie?” he asked slowly.

Dean ran his tongue along his teeth, nodding sourly. “Bobby,” he spat. “His name is Bobby.” John looked ready to argue the closeness of the name when Dean asked him another question. “What’s my favorite food?”

“Peaches,” John answered immediately, confident in his answer.

“That was _his_.”

“Oh, come on, Dean,” the boy had appeared, sitting on the table. “It still is.” He jumped down and began circling his brother. “Why can’t you see that?”

“Dad, just tell me what to do!” Dean cried. “Tell me who to be!”

John’s youngest son appeared behind him next. “Brother, look at me and you’ll see what he wants. What he _needs_.”

“Dean,” John spoke. “You don’t–”

“No, if you think that I don’t give a damn–”

“You _don’t_ give a damn,” his brother spat.

“–then you just don’t know who I am.”

“Why don’t you just go?” John asked softly after a minute.

Dean snorted. “Because that would be too easy.” Ignoring the gashes on his hands, he grabbed the keys to the Impala and drove to Cas’ apartment. He pounded on the door, leaving several bloody handprints across the wood. Castiel had barely opened the door and couldn’t even get a word out before Dean collapsed in his arms.


	8. "Superboy and the Invisible Girl"

Dean’s eyes slowly blinked open, sweat beading on his forehead. He moved to sit up, and discovered that his hands had been bandaged. “Cas?”

“Dean!” his boyfriend gasped, rushing into the living room. He placed a cold towel on Dean’s forehead, pushing him back down. “God, you scared me to death! What the hell happened to you?”

“He was there…”

“Who was?” Cas frowned, pressing the back of his hand to Dean’s forehead. He sighed when he felt the fever that still raged his skin.

“My brother,” Dean whispered.

“But you said–”

“No, Cas. He was in my dad’s head. See, he has these delusions, these… hallucinations.” He shook his head. “We’ve tried almost everything we can to get rid of them, but they won’t go away. _He_ won’t go away!” Dean was working himself into a fervor, his whole body shaking.

“Dean, you need to calm down,” Cas spoke gently. “Though I have no idea what it feels like, what you’re going through, I do know that you’re not well. You’re burning up and your hands probably need stitches. What happened after I left?”

Dean’s eyes were glassy and unfocused, “What happened? _What happened?_ I’ll tell you; my father doesn’t even know who I am. He’s so stuck in the past that he can’t see what’s right in front of him. I’m invisible, Cas,” his voice broke and he fell limp against the couch. “I’m the invisible boy.”

Castiel sighed. “You’re not invisible to me.”

Dean’s eyes flitted to his, a small smile following a moment later. “I’m pretty sure that I love you, Cas.” He closed his eyes as his boyfriend pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead. “On second thought, I’m _very_ sure that I love you.”

Cas laughed a little. “I’m very sure that I love you, too.” He pulled apart the bandage on Dean’s left hand, peering at the scabs that were forming across all of the cuts. “Looks like we can just keep an eye on these, but then again I’m studying law, not medicine.”

“If I die, I want you to have my car.”

“Dean, you’re not going to die,” Cas rolled his eyes. “Worst case scenario, you won’t be able to work while your hands are healing.”

Dean’s eyes brightened a little. “I can use this as an excuse to stay home and sleep all day?”

Cas snorted softly, “As long as you stay here with me so I can keep an eye on you.”

“I can’t... I need to be at home to take care of my dad.”

“At least stay the night,” Cas prompted. “It’s almost midnight, and I don’t want you driving when you look like you’re about to pass out.”

“I have to call him first; I don’t want him to panic.”

Castiel nodded, passing Dean the phone. It only took two rings for the call to be answered. “Hello?”

“Dad, it’s–”

“Dean! Where the hell are you? It’s 11:47 and I haven’t heard a word from you since you stormed out like a child!”

“A child?” Dean sat up, his face now red from anger. “I’m not the one acting like a child! You’re the one who can’t grow up and accept the fact that they’re dead!”

“Dean, maybe this isn’t the best conversation to be having right now–” Cas tried to intervene. “You know what, Dad? He’s immortal, forever alive; then there’s me...” he voice broke slightly. “He’s the one you wish would appear. He’s your hero, forever your son. He’s not here, I am here! You don’t even know who I am.”

“Dean, that’s not true,” John’s voice softened immensely, causing a single tear to slip from Dean’s eye. “You’re my pride and joy, my perfect son. You _know_ I love you,” John paused and Dean’s heart sank. “I love you as much as I can...”

Dean didn’t say anything for several minutes. “I’m going to be staying with Cas for a while. I don’t know when I’ll be back.”

If _I’ll be back_ , he thought.

“You have an appointment with your new psychiatrist on Thursday. His name is Dr. Madden. Hopefully you’ll be able to figure out the rest.” With that, he ended the call, leaning forward into his hands. Cas’ heart broke when he began sobbing, his entire body shaking. “He’s never going to see me, Cas. I’m always going to be in the shadows.”

Castiel pulled his boyfriend to his chest, slowly rocking them back and forth while humming an old Beatles song. “It doesn’t matter where you are, it matters what you do.”

“I’m invisible, Cas.”

“Then they’ll never see you coming.”


	9. "I'm Alive"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one of my favorite songs from the show. Aaron Tveit is a blessing upon us all. Please take the time to search and listen to this song.

“You must be, Mr. Winchester,” John was greeted by the smiling woman at the front desk. “Welcome. My name is Mariann and I will be helping you get set up with us today. First of all, are you taking any medication at the moment?”

John scoffed. “The better question would be to ask what medications I’m not on at the moment.”

Mariann smiled a little. “I understand. Well here at Tuttleberry, we aim to treat patients without the insistence of medication. Don’t get discouraged if our approaches don’t seem to work instantaneously, as it takes a bit of time for our psychologists to work out the therapy plan that will work best for you.” She led him into a room where a man was seated behind a desk.

He looked up as Mariann closed the door behind her. “John. Welcome, have a seat.” John slowly made his way to the couch, shaking the doctor’s hand before sitting down. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Dr. Alfred Madden. Let’s get started.” John shifted a little bit, uncomfortable. “Are you nervous, John?”

“No, just... lost in thought, I suppose.”

“Well let’s start by getting to know each other a little bit. Psychotherapy and medication often work best in tandem, but we can try the first one alone and see how far we get. Tell me some of your history.”

“My history? Well I was diagnosed bipolar–wow, uh–sixteen years ago. Only it turned out that bipolar didn’t totally cover it.”

“Often the best we can do is put a name on a collection of symptoms. It’s possible that bipolar may have more in common with schizophrenia or depression. Sometimes there is a genetic predisposition to illness, but actual onset is only triggered by some,” Dr. Madden’s voice softened, “traumatic event.”

John looked down at his hands. “I never know what to say when I have to go over all this.” He took a deep breath. “It starts to sound like some story that I tell about some other person entirely.”

“Why don’t you tell me about the last time you felt truly happy.”

“Uh...” John faltered, unable to come up with an answer.

“Were you happy when you got married?”

“I thought I was.”

Dr. Madden sat forward. “So there’s a difference between being happy and just thinking you’re happy?”

“Most people who think they’re happy just haven’t thought about it enough,” John sighed. “Most people who think they’re happy are actually just...” he shrugged, “stupid.”

“I see...” Dr. Madden crossed his legs. “Were you happy when your son was born?”

“Which one?”

“You know which one.” John’s eyes had gone wide, as if he were caught in a pair of headlights. “Why is he still around? Who is he–no, what is he?”

John’s son appeared behind the psychologist, smirking. “I am what you want me to be, and I’m your worst fear; you’ll find it in me.”

“Where does he come from, do you think?”

“I am more than memory, I am what might be; I am mystery. When I appear, it’s not so clear if I’m a simple spirit or I’m flesh and blood.” He jumped up on the desk, brown hair swinging wildly. “But I’m alive, I’m so alive! And I feed on the fear that’s behind your eyes. And I need you to need me, it’s no surprise: I’m alive.” John closed his eyes, trying to block out the image.

“What is he?” Dr. Madden’s question was still ringing in John’s ears.

“I’m your wish, your dream come true. But I am your darkest nightmare, too. I’ve shown you: I own you.” His eerie smile reappeared. “And though you made me, you can’t change me. I’m the perfect stranger who knows you too well. You know, I’ll tell you the truth if you let me try.” John made no movement to stop him. “You’re alive, I’m alive, and I’ll show you why,” he hopped down from the desk, nearing his father. He placed both hands on his dad’s cheeks, the eyes that had been once so full of life were cold and empty. “I’m alive.”

“No,” John whispered to himself. “No, you’re not.”

“I’m alive,” his son insisted. “I’m right behind you. He says to forget, but I’ll remind you: you can try to hide, but you know that I will find you. Because if you won’t grieve me, you won’t leave me behind.”

John shook his head, trying to cover his ears. “Go away!”

“If you try to deny me, I’ll never die,” his son insisted. _“I’m alive.”_

“John?”


	10. "Make Up Your Mind / Catch Me I'm Falling"

“John?” He looked up. “Before we continue, I’d like to try something new. Sometimes, when these stories are hard to tell, hypnosis can be helpful.”

John shook his head, his eyes scanning the room for any remaining traces of the boy he had lost. “I don’t think I can be hypnotized.” He shrugged. “I mean, it’s a fine idea, I’m just not the type.”

“Let’s try. Put your hands in your lap.” John sighed, but followed along. “Close your eyes and walk with me.”

John opened one of his eyes in confusion. “You just told me to sit still.”

“Walk with me in your mind,” Dr. Madden smiled. “Walk with me and go all the way down a long flight of stairs.”

“Stairs,” John mumbled, rolling his eyes.

“Go, step by step, into the darkness down there.”

“Should we turn on a light?” John opened his eyes. “You know, with the stairs?”

Alfred smiled a little. “Close your eyes, and walk with me down a hall. It’s a hall that you know, but at the end there’s a door that you’ve never laid eyes on before. Open the door.” The doctor watched as his patient relaxed. “Can you hear me, John?”

“Yes.”

“Are you nervous?”

John paused for a moment before he replied. “No.”

“Good,” he sat down and picked up a pen from his desk. “Now, make up your mind to tell the stories you’ve kept locked away. We’ll search in your past for what sorrows may last, then you can finally make up your mind to be well.”

“I always thought I’d be too busy for a family. But when I met her, I knew. I knew she was the one. The marriage wasn’t really planned, but we were happy, I suppose. Things were going great until… until…”

“Until?” Dr. Madden prompted gently. John shook his head, closing his mouth. “Make up your mind that you’re strong enough. Come, let the truth be revealed. Admitting what you’ve lost will force you to live with the cost, but sometimes it hurts to be healed.” John remained silent. “Earlier you told me that talking through your history feels like it’s about someone else. Make it about you.”

“After the accident… I couldn’t hold Dean in the hospital. I couldn’t let myself hold him.”

“This is the first time you’ve mentioned Dean in hours of therapy. John, it’s time you faced what you fear, and you’ll see that the visions of your son are just your defense of having to accept what really happened.”

“I don’t want to lose him again,” John whispered.

“Let’s try to understand what this is doing to you and your family. Your grief for your wife and son, your distance from Dean. It’s time you made up your mind to live at last. Embrace what’s inside, and replace what has died, then make up your mind; you’ll survive.” He turned away from the window to face John. “Unresolved loss can lead to depression. Fear of loss, to anxiety. The more you hold on to something you lost, the more you fear losing it. Depression, anxiety, one gives rise to the other. It becomes a cycle.” John fidgeted in his seat, trying to appease the war that had begun inside his mind. “Don’t you want to be free from all of that, finally? Don’t you want to go home and maybe spend some time with Dean, and let your son go at last?”

John’s head snapped up at the question, the war halting in its tracks. His eyes met the boy’s across from him. “Yes,” he decided finally.

“Dad–” he gasped softly, his voice breaking.

John broke the eye contact at looked towards his doctor. “Yes I would.”


	11. "I Dreamed a Dance / There's a World"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> John attempts suicide. Please be cautious as you read.

Dean opened his eyes to the sound of a ringing phone. When he checked the caller ID, his heart sped up; he hadn’t spoken to his father in over a week. Quietly slipping out of bed, so as to not wake up his boyfriend, Dean picked up the call. “Dad?”

“I want you to come home,” John said. “I’m sorry–about everything. I… I’m ready to let go.”

Dean fell onto the couch in disbelief. “You–? This is great, but… are you sure?”

John took a deep breath and nodded. “I’m sure. It’s time.”

“I’m on my way,” Dean said, ending the call.

“Who was that?” Cas asked groggily, standing in the hallway with his bathrobe swinging open.

“My dad,” Dean replied, still stunned.

“Why? What happened?”

Dean shook his head, “I really don’t know. Maybe it was his new doctor, but Dad wants to move on. He wants to forget about the fire. About everything.”

“And how do you feel about that?”

Dean looked up. “I feel ready, too.”

John hung up the phone and opened the door that led to the basement. He flipped on the lights, unlike in his hypnotic session, and made his way into the storage room, past the boxes of items recovered from the fire. There was only one he cared about, and it was the smallest out of them all.

He picked up the charred music box, swiping away the dust that had accumulated from over 17 years of disuse. A familiar, albeit long forgotten, tune floated from it as he opened the box. John began swaying, humming along to the tune as he sat down on a box. His eyes drifted shut as the tune lulled him to sleep.

“Are you really going to let me go?”

John opened his eyes and stopped, turning around. “It’s time,” he said gently.

“But I’m _alive_ ,” he persisted.

“Son, you and I both know that’s not true.” He slowly approached his son, reaching out to caress his cheek. “We both know that I’ll wake up, _alone_.”

“You don’t have to.”

“There’s no other way,” John’s face softened as he looked at the boy in front of him. “I’d die to see you again,” he whispered softly, his hand stopping to rest on the boy’s face.

“I’m glad,” Cas said with a tired smile. “It’s been how many years now?”

“Seventeen,” Dean said, tugging his shirt off so he could take a quick shower.

“I’m sorry it had to take this long,” Cas sighed, rubbing a hand across his eyes. “I can’t imagine what it’s been like.”

Dean nodded, shimmying out of his pajama pants. “It’s hard, but hopefully it will be over now. _Hopefully_ ,” he mumbled.

Cas stood in the doorway of the bathroom as Dean turned on the shower. “Can I join?” he smirked.

Dean laughed, “As much as I’d love to take you up on that offer, you haven’t had your coffee yet.”

“So?” Cas asked, crossing his arms.

“So as much as I’d like your… _help_ ,” he finally settled on the word, “I’m pretty sure you’d fall asleep.”

“Humph.”

“Don’t ‘humph’ me, you know it’s true.” Cas turned and grumbled his way to the kitchen, putting on a pot of coffee. He sat down on the couch and blinked, only to find Dean standing in front of him, fully dressed with damp hair. “Told you,” he smirked.

“Shut up,” he pushed Dean away from him with his foot. “And gimme my Joe.”

“Who is this _Joe_?” Dean fake-gasped. “I’m hurt!” Cas rolled his eyes, settling back into the couch. Dean grabbed a mug and passed it to his boyfriend. “This’ll wake you up for your date with Joe.” Cas rolled his eyes again, grabbing greedily at the caffeine. Dean chuckled and picked up the keys to the Impala. “I’ll see you this afternoon, okay?” he kissed his cheek. “I love you.”

“Mm,” Cas grumbled, sipping the coffee.

Dean snorted and walked outside, sipping on his own thermos of coffee. He sighed when he slid into the car, thinking about what his dad really meant by “letting go.” Deciding there was only one way to find out, he started the car and began to drive.

“There’s a world I know; a place we can go, where the pain will go away,” the boy said, his eyes brightening slightly. “There’s a world out there; I’ll show you just where.” John stood up, following his son towards the stairs. “And in time, I know you’ll see that it’s a world where we can be free.” They walked up the stairs together. “Come with me,” he held out his hand. John looked behind him, at the boxes and boxes of burned memories. “Come with me,” he insisted softly.

John returned his gaze to the boy, the war in his mind raging again. Reaching out, he took his son’s hand and followed him out the door.

_“Come with me…”_

The war was silent.


	12. "I've Been"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> John's hospitalization after his suicide attempt. Dean also mentions feeling suicidal. Decision to attempt ECT treatment. Please be cautious as you read.

“Winchester, John: discovered unconscious at home by son; multiple razor wounds to the wrists and forearms: self-inflicted; saline rinse, sutures, gauze, IV, antibiotics; isolated, sedated, restrained–?! Damn it!” Dr. Madden swore as he read over the hospital file.

“Doc?” Dean slowly approached his father’s new psychiatrist. “Is my dad going to be okay?”

“He should,” he sighed heavily, returning the clipboard to John’s door. “Although to remain ‘okay,’ ECT is indicated,” the doctor responded, his eyes flitting to the large bloodstains that were drying on both Dean’s shirt and jeans.

Dean took a step back in surprise. “They still do that?”

“They do, yes. It’s standard in cases like these. Your father has a long history of resistance to drug therapy, he’s acutely suicidal…” he sighed again and shook his head. “It’s really our best option.”

“Well that’s terrifying,” Dean replied, stunned.

Dr. Madden looked up. “It’s really not. The electricity involved is barely enough to light a 100 watt bulb.”

“Oh, if it’s just a 100 watt bulb, then it’s fine!” Dean exploded. “This is my dad’s _life_ we are talking about here!”

“It’s safer than crossing the street,” the doctor tried to reassure him. “And the short-term success rate is over 80 percent.”

“I thought that he was better…” Dean whispered.

“We all thought so. But now is his chance to _actually_ get better. Try the ECT,” Alfred prompted. “Legally, we just need his consent, but hospital policy is we need yours, too.”

Dean took the packet that Dr. Madden handed him and began to look it over. “Look,” he bit his lip, “I don’t think he’s gonna go for this.”

The doctor put his hand on Dean’s shoulder. “Mr. Winchester, we could administer the ECT and you could bring him home in ten days. Or,” his hand squeezed Dean’s shoulder a little harder, “we could keep him sedated for 48 hours, discharge him and then wait for him to try again.” Dean’s head snapped up in fury. “Go home, okay? Take the night and think about it. Come back and let me know in the morning.”

Dean’s anger melted away as he nodded numbly and walked into the hospital room to grab his keys. His mind was racing as he thought everything over, not even looking up when Cas knocked on the door. “Dean?” The mechanic didn’t say anything, instead opting to press the back of his hand to his mouth as he collapsed onto the stiff couch. Cas gently sat down next to him and put a comforting hand on his leg. “You don’t have to say anything. I just want you to know that I’m here for you.” There was a choppy intake of breath before Dean began sobbing. Castiel felt his heart break as he wrapped his arms tightly around his boyfriend. “Hey, shh…” he softly tried to comfort him. “Look at me.” He lifted Dean’s chin with his hand and swiped away the tears on Dean’s cheeks with his thumb. Kissing him softly, Cas pressed their foreheads together. “Your dad is strong, Dean. We’ll get through this. Together.”

Dean’s breathing was still ragged as he scrubbed at the remaining tears with the palms of his hands. He glanced over at his father, who was still unconscious due to heavy sedatives. “Take me home?” he turned to Cas, his eyes glassy.

“Sure, baby.” Cas stood up and gently took the car keys from Dean’s hand. The drive was silent until Cas pulled into the driveway. “Do you want me to come in?” Dean nodded wordlessly, not wanting to face the house alone. Cas froze when he walked in the door, his eyes widening at the amount of blood that was pooled next to the recliner in the living room. Had Dean been just a few minutes later… He shook his head and swallowed back the bile that was rising in his throat.

Castiel turned and saw Dean emerge from the kitchen, a blank look on his face and a bucket in his hand. “I should…” he mumbled, gesturing to the carpet, “I should clean that up.”

“Dean, you don’t have–”

“Yes, I do,” he stopped Cas. “I do.” He slowly knelt down and pressed the rag to the corner of the blood. When he pulled back, he noticed that blood had soaked through the cloth, staining his hand red. “What now, Cas?” he asked, lost in the patterns of his palm. “I know I have to help him, but hell if I know how. He said he was ready to let my brother go, and then he tries to join him…? It just doesn’t make sense.”

Cas lowered himself to the ground next to Dean. “Isn’t there anything that doctors can do?”

“All the times I’ve asked, they only said that the way his illness goes… The truth of it is no one really knows how to cure him. His doctors are saying now that his best chance is shock therapy.”

“You’re joking,” Cas replied, stunned. “They still do that?”

“That’s what I said…” Dean paused, “Dr. Madden told me that there’s an 80% success rate from ECT. It’s his best shot at getting better. If he doesn’t do it, they say that the only thing we can do is wait for him to… _try_ again.” Cas gently took the rag from his hands and continued to clean. “Every day, this act we act gets more and more absurd. And all my fears just sit inside me, screaming to be heard… I know they won’t, though. Not a single word. My feelings don’t matter. I was here, at his side, when he called–when he cried. How could he leave me on my own?” Cas quietly stood up and made his way to the kitchen to rinse the washcloth and to refill the bucket with clean water as Dean began talking to himself. “Will it work?” he suddenly asked, looking up as Castiel returned to the living room.

“What?”

“This cure.”

Cas signed and knelt down again. “There’s no way to be sure, Dean.”

“I’ve never had to face the world without him at my side. He’s been the only person truly there for me since the fire.”

“ _I’m_ here for you now. No matter what happens with your dad, I will always be here for you.”

Dean shook his head, almost as if he didn’t hear. “Mine is just a slower suicide…” he said softly. Cas stopped scrubbing the carpeting, his eyes the only part of him moving to watch Dean as his breath hitched in his chest. “I’ve been here for every high and low he’s had, but this is the worst I’ve ever known. But I can’t give up now,” he said, his voice gaining strength. Cas closed his eyes and sighed a little. “’Cause I’ve never been alone.” His voice fell again, “I could never be alone…”

Cas stood up. “Dean, you’re not alone! You don’t _have_ to be alone. I’m _here_.” He knelt down in front of Dean. “ _I love you_. Can’t you see that?”

“I’m scared, Cas,” he finally met his boyfriend’s eyes. “I’m scared to lose the only family I have left.”

“Then try the ECT. I’ll be with you– _both_ of you–every step of the way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE seek help if you are feeling suicidal. I know everyone says it, but there IS hope. You can heal, whether you believe it now or not.


	13. "Didn't I See This Movie?"

John shook his head, “That’s crazy. People go crazy from that.”

Doctor Madden handed John the pamphlet on ECT. “Actually, the after-effects are minimal. Usually, it just feels a bit like a hangover.”

“Oh, and how would _he_ know?” a certain hazel-eyed boy appeared at the foot of the bed. “Dad, don’t let them do this. It causes brain damage!”

“To be honest, only a minority of patients report _some_ memory loss, but it’s usually not much.”

“How do you know how much memory you’ve lost if you’ve lost it?!” the boy exclaimed, trying to direct his father’s attention away from the doctor.

“Some people say it’s like becoming a new person.”

“A new person because they can’t remember who they were before?”

Doctor Madden licked his lips and sighed. “The modern procedure is clean and simple. Hundreds, if not thousands, of patients receive it every year.”

“What makes you think I’ll lose my mind for you?”

“Mr. Winchester,” Alfred tried.

“I’m no sociopath!”

The doctor took an impatient breath. “This is your best chance to let your son go. To finally be able to live, and to stop being a burden for Dean.”

John looked up slowly. “What did you say?”

“I said you’re being a burden.”

“Aren’t doctors supposed to lie?” the boy scoffed. “Tell you that everything’s going to be okay?”

“And that’s going to convince me to fry my brains out? Sure, it may be slightly difficult for him to have a ‘normal’ life, but I don’t think it’s what he wants.”

“How would you know?” Dr. Madden asked. “You haven’t been there for him. You’ve been so caught up in the past that you’re scared to look at the present. Dean isn’t going to wait on you forever, John. He’s going to get married, have a family. And you won’t be a part of it.”

John shook his head, tears threatening his voice’s stability. “That’s not true…”

“It doesn’t have to be.”

John covered his ears with his hands. “Stay out of my brain!”

“You only have two options left, and it’s time you realize it. Either you get help, or you say goodbye. You’ve refused treatment, John. ECT is the last thing we can attempt. If it doesn’t work,” he shrugged, “at least we can say we tried.”

“I’m not going to choose one son over the other.”

Alfred straightened up and ran his hands down the front of his jacket. “I think you already have.”

John angrily stood up. “I’m not going to take this, I’m walking out.” He froze in the doorway when he came face-to-face with his eldest son.

“Dad?”


	14. "A Light in the Dark"

“Dean.”

“Where are you going?”

“Home.”

“But what about the ECT? Dad, it could make you better,” Dean tried to reason with his father.

“What if I don’t want to get better?”

Dean paused for a minute. “You know the light–the one right above the porch? It’s the only sign that our house is alive. Our _home_. But I can’t leave the light on forever, Dad. Sooner or later, it’s going to burn out, and I don’t know if there will be anyone left to change it.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Look, I’ve thought about this all night. I think we should try the ECT.”

“Even if I wanted to do it, I’m not sure if I could.”

“It sounds scary, I know. But what if you were able to talk to someone who’s had it done? Doc,” Dean turned to Dr. Madden, “would that be possible?”

Alfred pursed his lips thoughtfully. “It may take a couple of hours to find someone willing to share, but I believe it can be done, yes.”

“How about this: we wait until someone tells us their story and then continue based off of that?” Dean suggested. “If you still don’t want to try the ECT, we don’t have to. But I at least want you to hear them out.”

“Fine,” John sighed. “I’ll listen to them, but I’m not promising it’s going to change my mind.”

“That’s all I need to hear,” Dean smiled a little.

Doctor Madden came in a short while later, followed by a man and a woman wearing hospital clothes. “This is Jeff and Kathleen, both are current patients undertaking electro-therapy.” He stepped to the side and let the patients stand next to John’s bed.

“What is it like?” he asked, tugging down the sleeves of his robe to hide his bandaged wrists. “How does it work?”

“They completely knock you out and paralyze your muscles, so contractions don’t break bones and stuff. It’s not a small thing–it’s a very intimidating and frightening process, especially at first,*” Kathleen began.

“At first?” John repeated.

She nodded. “The first few times it’s very scary because when you wake up, you don’t know your name, where you are, your family. It’s like your mind has been erased. And that lasts for a while, up to a day, before it starts gradually coming back to you.*”

“The effects of ECT weren’t immediate,” Jeff added. “It took a few weeks of gradual lifting of the fog. Eventually it dawned on me that I was well enough to realize that I didn’t want to be a sick person anymore and that there was a life to get back to.*”

Dean looked over at his father. “What about negative side effects?”

“They say it causes short-term memory loss, but I can’t think of too many things on the slate that were wiped indelibly off as a result of the treatment,” Jeff shrugged. “It may sound sappy, but at some profound level I regained the understanding that I could be the person I was meant to be.*”

The five people in the room continued to talk about the treatment for another hour. Once Jeff and Kathleen had left, Dean turned to his father. “Well?”

“I’m scared, son.”

“I know you are,” he held the form in one hand and his father’s in the other. “I am, too. But I think we have to try it. Who knows?” Dean shrugged, holding out the paper. “Maybe after this there will be two lights on the porch.”

John grabbed the pen and slowly signed his name. “Two lights,” he repeated. “Two lights.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *The statements given by Jeff and Kathleen are from an article written by Bryan Miller about the effects of ECT for Health Newsletter.


	15. "Song of Forgetting"

“Dad!” Dean ran into the hospital room, a bright smile on his face.

“Dean,” John said, slightly quizzically.

“Dad, your two weeks are up. It’s time to go home.”

“Home…” He shook his head. “But I don’t–”

Dean put a hand on his father’s shoulder. “Just relax, alright? I’ll take care of you.” He helped his father put on his shoes and then carefully walked him out to the car. The drive back to the house was quiet, neither man speaking.

When they walked in the front door, Cas pulled Dean into a hug. “Welcome home! You look great,” he said to John.

“Oh, thank you…” John narrowed his eyes as he scrutinized the man in front of him. “Who are you?”

Cas’ eyes flickered to Dean’s over John’s shoulder. Dean just shrugged and Cas turned his gaze back to John. “I, uh, I’m dating your son.”

“Right. Right, of course,” John pasted a smile on his face. “ _Cat-steel_.”

“Actually–” Cas pursed his lips then waved, “Never mind.”

John didn’t seem to hear him as he looked around, picking up framed pictures from the table in the front hall. “This is our house?”

“Dad,” Dean sighed, “you really don’t remember any of this? Yes, this is our house.”

“Huh,” John hummed, placing the photo back on the table.

“Do you remember anything, Dad?” Dean prompted. “Last Christmas? Last year?”

“Do I _really_ live here?” John asked, not hearing Dean speak.

“You picked the paint we put on the walls. You and I were shopping for hours before you finally gave up and decided that you weren’t even going to look at the color. You grabbed like three buckets of paint, but none of them matched so we ended up putting a different color on all of the living room walls. You don’t remember any of that?”

John shook his head, “I wish I could.”

“What about our vacation to Central Bay, huh?” Dean tried to jog any memory he could. “The whole trip was nothing but a downpour! You and I look like wet dogs in all of the pictures.” His smile faded when his dad looked at him with a blank and slightly confused expression. “What about Mom? Do you remember her?”

“I remember the day we met…” he started slowly. “We shared two beers,” John laughed. “She and I talked all evening. I remember that as if it were yesterday.”

“What happened next?”

John shook his head again. “I forget.”

“But, Dad, that’s _nineteen years_ ,” Dean whispered.

“Well, Doctor Mitchell said that there might be some memory loss.”

“It’s Doctor Madden,” Dean reminded him.

“See? There you go.” John sighed and put a hand on his son’s shoulder. “I know you’re worried about me. But I’ll be fine, yeah? So what do you say we grab dinner and watch some football together, huh? Your friend can come too.”

“Sure, Dad.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These kinds of ECT results are extremely rare, if not impossible. Do not let this story deter you from potentially receiving the treatment you need to be healthy.


	16. "Seconds and Years / Better Than Before"

“Such loss is rare, but it _has_ been reported…” Dr. Madden flipped through John’s file as Dean stood across from him, his arms crossed. “It may be partly psychogenic,” he offered. “At times like this, the mind tends to repress troubling memories. But they’re still there. Somewhere,” he smiled tightly. “And they tend to return in fits and starts.”

“But it’s been two weeks,” Dean replied angrily, trying to keep his voice in check.

Dr. Madden simply shrugged. “A little loss of memory is normal.”

“I couldn’t give a flying fuck what’s normal! We haven’t had a ‘normal’ day in years!”

“John,” Alfred said, gesturing to the couch. “Are things getting clearer with the treatment?”

“Well… yes,” John replied, sitting down.

“Is life less cloudy than it was before?”

“Yes.”

“Do you still feel as if your head is full of concrete?”

“No. And you’re not scary anymore.”

“Okay,” Alfred shrugged, looking at Dean. “Great.”

John bounced out of his seat and moved towards the window as Dean leaned in to speak quietly with the doctor. “What about his memory?”

Dr. Madden pulled him farther away from John. “The memories are there, somewhere. Find some pictures of the past you can share. If you have any keepsakes from the life that’s behind him…”

“Should I bring up the subject of…” he trailed off, glancing backwards.

“Yes, but keep it light at first; that’s best. Be careful that he’s not distressed, and when the time’s right, tell the rest.” Dean nodded, leaving the office with his father behind him.

“See, Dean? I told you it was nothing to worry about,” John said as they got into the Impala. “But I do want to know what I’m forgetting. I can feel the space in my mind where the memories have been left behind, but I don’t know how to reach them,” he said. “I just can’t quite get them.”

“Well, let’s start with something small!” Dean suggested as they got home. He ran downstairs and brought up a keepsake box of memories from the time he was born until the fire. “Something personal and pretty,” he pulled out a small box. “I’ll bet you know these shiny things.” Dean smiled as he opened the box.

“They’re our wedding rings,” John said quietly, picking them up. “I didn’t know we still had them… I remember our wedding! It was such a sight to see. The ceremony was everything we hoped it would be.”

“Dad,” Dean cringed, remembering the stories he was told previously. “It was raining, it was Portland, you eloped… I mean, it’s _Portland_.” John just laughed, setting the rings down and picking more things up from the larger box. Dean handed him a photograph. “Here’s when we drove west in the Impala! Dad, on that trip I learned what the middle finger meant.” He laughed. “Oh, here’s the one of the house on Walton Way. Then we moved here; to a house we both chose. And here’s the damage to the Impala when you showed me how to park it…”

“Did we… crush somebody’s cat beneath the tire?”

“Yes, ours.”

John laughed some more as he continued piling objects on the table. “What’s this?” he paused at an old music box.

“Nothing.” Dean grabbed it and threw it in the living room. “Just a bit of junk.”

The boy that wasn’t mentioned stood in the corner of the room, his eyes narrowed and his arms crossed across his chest. “Junk?” he scoffed. “Soon, we’ll see which one of us is _really_ the junk.”


	17. "Aftershocks"

“You’ve managed to get rid of me; returned me to the grave,” the boy glared at his brother. “Shocking those you deem cannot be saved. You’ve cleared him of my memory and many more as well, he may have wanted some of them, but who can ever tell?” He circled his brother as he looked through the box of photographs. Stopping in front of his father, he paused. “Your brainwaves are more regular, the chemistry more pure. These headaches and the nausea will pass and you’ll endure. Your son is gone forever, though, of that my brother’s sure…” His cold eyes looked his father up and down. “You have to wonder what’s worse: the symptom or the cure.”

John rubbed his forehead angrily, slapping the pictures back onto the table. “Dad, we’ve been at this for hours. Maybe it’s time to take a break?” Dean suggested.

He shook his head. “No, there’s something missing. I… I can almost see it! It’s like… _tugging_ at me. I…”

“Dad, we should go to bed. It’s getting late. If the memories are meant to come back, they will,” Dean persuaded gently. “I’m going to bed.”

John nodded as his son walked downstairs. He continued to stare at the photographs until a knock sounded at the door. Answering it cautiously, he noticed a familiar pair of stunning blue eyes. “Hi, Mr. Winchester. I know it’s late, but I really need to talk to Dean about something. He’s not answering his phone. Can I come in?” Cas asked, nervously tugging at the sleeves of his jacket. “Is… everything alright?” he asked, noticing John’s expression.

“Castiel,” John said. “Dean’s boyfriend.”

“Yeah…” Cas nodded slowly, pushing his hands deep into his pockets. “That’s me.”

“You remind me of someone,” John tilted his head to the side. “Never mind. Dean is in his room. Go ahead,” he stepped out of the doorway and let Cas enter the house.

“Thank you.” He hurried down the steps, past the boy sitting on the bottom step of the upper staircase.

The boy stood up and followed behind him, trailing slowly down the stairs towards his brother’s room. “You’re part of this,” he hissed. “You’ve tried to get rid of me without a trace. But my life is not something you can just erase! You may have moved me from his memory, but I’m still there in his soul.”

“Dean,” Cas knocked on his door, “it’s me.”

“Cas? What the hell are you doing here?” Dean asked, tugging on a t-shirt.

“We need to talk.”

Dean’s brother stood in the doorway of his room, his entire body blocking the hall. “You expect Dad’s life to go back to normal now. You and that doctor both believe that.”

“Look,” Cas shook his head, “I can’t keep doing this.”

“Doing what?”

“ _Lying_ to your father! I’m not your boyfriend!”

Dean shook his head incredulously. “ _That’s_ what you needed to talk to me about? At 11:30 at night? I mean, what the hell! Cas, I thought you were dying.”

“Dean, when you asked me to marry you, I thought we were going to tell your father right away! I want to get married, Dean. But I want you to want it, too.”

“How could you think I don’t want it?” Dean gasped, grabbing Cas’ hands. “Cas, I _love_ you. So much.”

Cas shook his head, “But you haven’t even told your dad. Look, I understand not wanting to tell him right away after the treatment, but it’s been three months since then, Dean. I’m not sure if his memories are going to come back, and I’m tired of feeling like it’s just an excuse to you.”

Dean grabbed his face in his hands. “Don’t you _dare_ think that there is anything that I would put in front of you, Castiel Novak. You are my whole world. I wouldn’t have proposed if I didn’t mean it. I _do_ mean it, Cas. I just… I always pictured my dad to be at my wedding. But not just _there_ , he’s healthy and… _normal_. He’s the only family I have and I can’t imagine that day without him.”

_“But you can imagine it without_ me _…”_

Cas blinked back a couple tears. “Then why haven’t you told him?”

“I didn’t want to potentially trigger any memories of… you know.”

“Me?” his brother asked, finally walking all the way into the room. “You didn’t want him to remember _me_.”

“That’s a pathetic excuse,” Cas sniffed, wiping the hand with the ring under his nose.

“I know it is,” Dean chuckled lightly. “We’ll tell him tomorrow. I love you, Cas.”

Smiling, Cas rested his head against Dean’s chest. “I love you, too.”

A shadow perched itself on the end of Dean’s bed, his whole body crouched onto the edge of the bedframe. “Me three,” it hissed. “I’ve got nothing but love for you, big brother… Nothing but _love_ …”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The manifestation of Dean's brother is not evil. He is doing what he feels he needs to do in order to not be forgotten/ignored.
> 
> (Yes, I purposefully did not say his name.)


	18. "You Don't Know / It's Gonna Be Good (Reprise)"

“How are you feeling, John?” Alfred asked. “You said Dean got engaged. That must be wonderful news for you.”

“It is, but it’s been four months since the treatment and my mind is still a mess.” John angrily ran a hand through his hair as he sat in front of the doctor. “I can hardly remember the boy he’s marrying! And the other things that I’ve forgotten, well they’re anybody’s guess. I don’t know what it is that I don’t know! All I can remember is that I’m forgetting something. Something _big_.”

“Are you talking with Dean?”

“He doesn’t have much to say. It’s all the same; vacations of the two of us and nothing about Mary or… or…” he shook his head.

“Is he helping you remember?”

“Not really,” he said.

Dr. Madden bit his lip, thinking. “Is the puzzle coming together at all? Any pieces, any rows?”

“I don’t know where the fucking pieces go!” John yelled. “I don’t know how it started, so I won’t know when it’s done.”

“Have you talked of your depression? Your delusions and your son?”

John shook his head. “I’m talking _to_ my son.”

“The other one,” Dr. Madden replied. “The one you lost in the fire.”

“The _what_?”

“Dean didn’t tell…?” Alfred looked down at his clipboard. “I think you two should talk more.”

“We should talk more? That’s it?” John threw his hands in the air.

“Talk to him. I’ll see you next week.”

John pushed past the doctor, “Very helpful, thank you.” He was silent the whole ride home until he picked up the music box that had been left in the living room. John swore he saw an unfamiliar figure lurking in the corner of his eye, but as soon as he turned, it was only Dean.

“What are you doing?” he asked, his eyes wide.

John slammed the box shut, abruptly ending the song. “What is this?”

“Where did you get that?” Dean reached for it, but John kept the box out of his hands. “Dad, it’s nothing. Just an old music box.”

“It’s burnt.” Dean looked down, knowing it was too late to try and pretend the box never existed. “We played it for the baby,” John said. “Sometimes it helped him sleep.”

“Dad, you shouldn’t–”

John held up a hand to stop him. “We were still living downtown.”

“It’s not a good idea–”

“The lights and the sirens went on for miles…”

“Please, don’t,” Dean begged. “You think this will help, but it won’t.”

“How could I forget this?” John whispered.

“Dad, why do you want to remember the things that hurt you?”

“Because I want to remember everything,” John looked at Dean sadly. “Dean, he was a baby when he died, but I remember him older.”

“He died as a baby,” Dean confirmed. “We should call Doctor Madden.”

“No, I already saw him! I’m just trying to make sense of this!” John clutched the little box. “What was his name? I don’t ever remember hearing you say his name. Why is that?”

“Dad, it’s gonna be fine. We’ll go back to the doctor and, and take more pills! Do more ECT–”

“My son?”

“It’s gonna be fine, Dad.”

“Your brother!”

“I’m calling the doctor now–” he stopped as John pulled the phone from his hand.

“What was his name?” he asked gently.

Dean shook his head, “I have to get out of here…”

“Dean, where are you going?”

He paused in the doorway, not meeting his father’s eyes. “I’m going to talk to Mom.” Without another word, he left.


	19. "How Could I Ever Forget?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Painful descriptions of the fire, and the death of Dean's brother.

“Dean?”

He sprang up from the gravestones with the last name WINCHESTER spelled out in large block letters, spinning around. “Cas? What… what are you doing here?”

Cas slowly approached Dean. “Your father called me. He said you may want some company. You don’t need to talk, just know that I’m here for you.”

Dean knelt down and brushed the grass and other debris off of his brother’s tiny headstone. The granite slab had a teddy bear carved into it, one that held the round piece with his name, the name he couldn’t bear to bring himself to look at. “I can still remember the day that I lost you…” He covered his face with his hands as he began to cry. “I remember it all. The fire,” he spoke quietly to Cas after a while, “I don’t know how it started. But it was in his room. It was late. The smoke alarms woke me up. I can remember the heat… the smell…” he swallowed thickly. “Dad, he… rushed into the nursery. I remember hearing the screams, but I don’t remember who was screaming. Dad ran into the flames to grab my brother from his crib. He gave him to me and told me to run outside as fast as I could, to get us to safety. He stayed behind to try and save Mom, but…” Dean took a large, shaky breath. “When I got outside, I… I remember that it was quiet. _So quiet_ … And my brother, he…” Dean let out a loud sob. “He died in my arms, Cas.” He stared at his shaking hands before closing his eyes and pressing his palms into the grass, sobbing loudly. “He was so small and so _still_ … And just six months old… to the day. And he was so, so _cold_ … Even with the heat of the flames, he was so cold.” Dean pressed his face to the grass as well, “If I had been _faster_ , maybe he…” Dean sat back on his heels, tears streaking his dirty face. “I was four years old, Cas! _Four years old_ and I had to bury my mom and baby brother.” Dean took a deep breath, sniffing. “And I did.”


	20. "I'm Alive (Reprise)"

Cas looked to his feet, tears slipping down his cheeks. “Dean, I… I’m so sorry.”

“So am I,” Dean shook his head. “Sometimes, at least. I mean, there was nothing I could’ve done; nothing my father could’ve done. Things just happen–terrible things–but there’s nothing you can do to stop them.” He swallowed, sighing. “It took me years to finally understand that.” He lifted a hand and rested it gently on the granite bear’s head. “Some days I wonder what my life would be like if they didn’t die. Like, what would I be doing?”

Cas tilted his head slightly, his eyes falling to Dean’s hand. “What do you want to be doing?”

“I guess I’ve always wanted to just drop everything and leave. Y’know? Take a spontaneous road trip all across the country. Maybe stop here and there to help people, but I mostly just want to… _drive_.” A smile crossed his face. “I used to dream that my brother would just come home one day; that the fire was just a terrible nightmare. I wanted him to be real so badly, I…”

“You what?” Cas asked after a few moments of silence.

“Never mind,” Dean shook his head. “Like I said, it was just dreams and wishful thinking.”

“I know what wishful thinking is like,” Cas sighed. “Remember how I told you I was adopted?”

“Yeah,” Dean looked at him.

“I remember the day I lost everything, too. I mean, it’s definitely fuzzy because I was barely one, but some things just stay with you.”

“Like what?” Dean asked softly.

“My whole family was killed,” he said quietly. “I was the only one to survive.”

“Cas, I…” Dean’s breathing became shallow as he thought about what Cas must have seen. “I’m so–”

“I don’t want pity,” Cas said, his voice hard. “I barely knew them. I only know their names because I visit their graves. I don’t remember them, I just… I remember the blood. My second oldest brother, Gabriel… it was splattered around him in a pattern that reminded me of wings. I honestly can’t remember all the names of my other brothers and sisters, nor can I remember their faces. But his, for some reason, his has stuck with me my whole life.”

“Who…” Dean cleared his throat. “Who did it?”

“I don’t know his name; the police never caught him. I’ve always just referred to him as Lucifer.” He took a deep breath and shrugged. “But then Chuck and Becky came along. God, I haven’t thought about that in a long time.”

“I’m sorry I made you–”

“You didn’t,” Cas said. “You didn’t ‘make me’ do anything. It’s good to remember them sometimes. But not always, or you’ll never move on from the past.” As dusk soon began to descend upon them, Dean stood up and brushed off his jeans. Cas followed his actions, then paused in front of him. He offered a small smile as his thumb brushed away the tears that had dried on Dean’s cheeks. “I’m here for you anytime you need,” he reassured him softly.

“Thank you, Cas,” Dean smiled a little in return. “And I’m here for you. But I suppose we should get back. Do you… do you want to spend the night?”

“R-really?” Castiel’s smile widened.

“Yeah, I think it’s about time. Besides, I just unlocked your tragic backstory,” he teased. “Figure I should make it worthwhile.”

“I’d love to.” Cas grinned as he grabbed his fiancé’s hand. They made their way back to the Impala and quickly made the drive back to Dean’s home. But the pair’s happiness was short-lived. Dean opened the door to reveal John staring at the chair in the living room, the one with the faded blood stains down the front.

“I can see him…” John said softly, not turning his head. “My boy… I can see him again.”

Dean’s stomach dropped. “Dad, not this again. Not now.”

“What are you?” John whispered to the air.

“I am more than just your memory,” the boy replied. “I am what might have been. Come closer,” he waved his hand, beckoning his father nearer.

“Dean…” John stepped backwards, his voice wavering.

“Come closer,” the younger son insisted.

“Dad, there’s nothing there!” Dean shouted, desperate to get through to his father. He stepped in front of the chair, blocking the view of the blood.

“Dean,” his brother warned, stepping around him. “I _am_ here. I have _always_ been here. And until you name me, you won’t be able to tame me. Which means I’ll continue to be here. _Forever_.”

“I have to go to the hospital!” John exclaimed, turning and rushing out the front door.

“Dad! Come back!” Dean turned to run after him, pausing only to look at Cas’ horrified face. “I’m sorry…” he shook his head slightly, stopping as Cas put his hands on his shoulders.

“I’m alive!” Dean’s brother shouted behind him. “What are you going to do now that the medicine failed? _Huh?_ You know this means that all the doctors lied,” he pointed out. “I’m alive! You know what else? I am Death. Death defied,” he scoffed lightly. “Yeah. That’s what I am.”

“Dean, I’ll drive,” Cas said gently.

“Cas, you can’t–”

“Please, let me help you!”

Dean shook his head, backing out of Cas’ arms. “I’ll call you later, okay? I’m sorry.”

“I’ll just wait for you here…” Cas stood in the doorway as Dean jumped into the sleek black car, quickly backing out of the driveway and taking off in the same direction that John had run. Cas sighed heavily and closed the front door, wondering how long it would be until Dean would return to him.


	21. "The Break"

Dean slowed the car as he approached John. “Dad, get in the car.”

“No, I can’t. I have to get to the hospital! I need to see Dr. Madden.”

“I’ll drive you there,” Dean said, glancing between the road and his father. “It will be much faster.” John stopped for a moment, deciding whether he could trust his son or not. Finally, he got into the Impala and the two of them drove towards the office of Dr. Madden. “What’s going on, Dad? You were doing so well.”

“I don’t… I don’t know. At first, I didn’t know who he was. I thought maybe someone had broken into the house. But then he started humming the tune from his music box, and I… I froze. _He_ was the only one who would’ve known that song.”

Dean sighed, thinking about the empty room. “But you know that it’s impossible, don’t you? For someone to come back?”

“I know that science says you’re dead and gone forever. And reason says that I’m talking to the air, but… a part of me still insists that he’s there, somewhere.”

“Poetic, Dad,” Dean scoffed lightly. John smiled as well, turning to look out the window. “Look, I know that you’re hoping to see Dr. Madden tonight, but I doubt that he’s still here. If you can hold on, I’ll bring you back first thing tomorrow morning, I swear.”

John closed his eyes and sighed. “Dean, I know you’re trying to help, but I don’t think–”

“It’s our only option. Come on, let me take you home for the night.” Dean turned the car around and brought them back to the house. Cas ran outside as soon as he saw the car coming down the street. Dean stepped out of the car. “You coming, Dad?”

John shook his head, “I can’t go back in there.”

“You don’t have to,” Cas said suddenly. “You can stay at my apartment. I know it’s not much, but it’s a change of scenery.”

Dean looked at his Dad. “How does that sound? We can rest as Cas’ place and then see Dr. Madden tomorrow.”

“Okay,” John said. “Okay.” The three of them got back into the car and drove across town towards Castiel’s apartment. Dean grimaced at the faint blood marks that still stained the front door. “Where should I…?” he trailed off.

“If you don’t mind taking the sofa, Dean and I can share my bed. Don’t worry, there’s a fold-out mattress.”

“That would be fine, Cats.”

Dean pursed his lips and nodded, not bothering to correct his father. “We’ll see you in the morning.” He made his way to Cas’ room and sat down on the bed.

“Dean?” Cas asked softly, putting a hand on Dean’s shoulder. “Do you want to talk about anything?”

“I don’t even know where I would start,” he sighed. “Let’s just go to bed.”

Cas nodded, slipping under the covers. “I’m here for you, Dean. No matter what happens.”

“I know, Cas. I appreciate that. I’ll see you in the morning.”

John walked into the office of Dr. Madden the next day. “Ah, Mr. Winchester. What a pleasant surprise. I hope things are going well?”

“No,” John shook his head. “Things are not going well. I can see him, Alfred.”

“Relapse is very common, John. It’s upsetting that the delusional episodes have returned, but it’s not entirely unexpected.”

“So what can you do about it?” John asked.

“Nothing.”


	22. "Make Up Your Mind (Reprise)"

“What do you mean ‘ _nothing_ ’?” John asked. “You’re a doctor! You’re supposed to fix things!”

“John, we can’t fix what doesn’t want to be fixed. The treatment is strong, but lasts only so long. This may mean that your mind needs more.”

“Don’t say that,” John shook his head.

“ECT is powerful, John. It gave you your life back. But the effects often fade, and additional treatments are almost always necessary.”

“That wasn’t on the form!” John exclaimed.

“John, try again. There is no cure, but that doesn’t mean we don’t fight. Look, we’ll return to talk therapy. That should help process some things. We may need to look at a new drug regimen, but you need to continue taking medication. If you leave this untreated, it could be catastrophic.”

“Excuse me,” John pushed his way past the doctor and back into the hallway.


	23. "Maybe"

Dean looked up from his phone as the door opened. “What did he say?”

“He said I could do more ECT, or go back to meds.”

“And what are you going to do?”

“I don’t know if I’m going to do anything.”

“Dad, you can’t just walk out on your doctor,” Dean said. “You’re just gonna avoid it?”

“Maybe I’m tired of all this, Dean,” John sighed. “Maybe you feel that way, too.”

Dean turned away from his father. “I’m not ready to give up. Dad, it’s great that you’re sharing all of this, but where has all this caring been for sixteen years?” He ran a hand through his hair. “When I thought that you were dying, I cried for all I thought we’d never be. But if you give up now, there will be no more crying for me.”

“Dean… maybe we can’t be okay.” John put a hand on his son’s shoulder. “But if we’re tough, we can try anyway. We can live with what’s real and let go of this past.” He reached out to feel the roughness of his son’s cheek, his tired eyes taking in the green ones before him. “Maybe I’ll be able to see you at last.”

Dean jerked away. “I don’t believe you!”

“I tried to give you a normal life, but now… I realize that I have no clue what that is.”

“I don’t _need_ a life that’s normal, Dad. That’s way too much to ask. I just want something close enough to normal to get by.”

John huffed a laugh. “I think I can try doing that.”

“Good,” Dean smiled. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”


	24. "So Anyway"

It was May when John stepped into the living room, carrying a suitcase in his hand. “Dean, I’m leaving.” He looked down, “I thought you’d like to know.”

“Leaving? Dad, what are you talking about?” Dean let the book he was reading fall to his lap.

“Dean, I can’t stay. We’d both go mad.”

“Where is this coming from? Is it because Cas moved in with us? Or that he’s going to be a part of the family? Look, the wedding isn’t for another year so he can graduate without having to plan for something else. Dad, there’s nothing to worry about.”

“I want to try this on my own,” John said. “I don’t mean that you haven’t helped me all these years, but… but I think you’re holding me back. Dean, I want to be free.”

“Free…” Dean sputtered. “ _Free_? Free from what?”

“I have to go. It’s either that or die,” John said simply. He set down the suitcase and pulled an old photograph from his pocket. “I loved you once, you know.”

Dean refused to look up, his breathing coming in hard bursts. “Dad–”

“But it’s time for me to fly. I loved you once and though, I love you still, I know… it’s time for me to go.” He set the picture on the end table closest to him and lifted the suitcase back into the air. “Goodbye, Dean. I hope to see you at the wedding.”


	25. “I am the One (Reprise)”

Dean sat in shock for hours until Cas came home that night. “Dean? I’m home,” Cas called. “Dean? Why are all the lights off?”

“I was the one who stayed,” his voice came from the living room. “And he just walked away.”

“What are you talking about?” Cas entered the room, flipping on the lights as he went. “Dean, what’s wrong?”

“He just acted like he didn’t give a damn.”

“Who didn’t give a damn?”

“My father. He’s gone. Just up and left. I am the one who knew him,” Dean said, looking through Cas as if he wasn’t even there.

“And _I_ am the one who knows _you_ ,” a new voice spoke softly from the darkest corner of the room. “I am the one you fear.”

“No…” Dean’s head snapped to the corner of the room.

“I am the one who’s always been here,” a glowing pair of eyes looked back at him.

“No, this can’t be!”

“Dean? Dean, what are you looking at?” Cas asked, taking his hand.

“ _Him_ ,” he whimpered, his eyes fixed on an empty corner of the room as he began to tremble. “My brother. He’s still here. Cas, he’s still here… Can’t you just leave me alone?!”

“There is no one else here!” Cas exclaimed, his face turning white as he scanned the room. “Dean, look at me. There is no one else here!”

“Why didn’t you go with him?” Dean yelled at the solitary eyes, tears falling down his cheeks. “Why are you still here? I watched–I _held_ you–as you died! I loved you, but you’re gone!”

Castiel watched in horror as the Dean he knew disappeared before his eyes.

“It’s time you accepted that I’m not gone, and I’m not going anywhere. Dean, you need to _finally_ acknowledge that I’m alive and that I have always been here. I _know_ you can see me,” the boy paused, moving closer to his brother until he was looking down at Dean. “Because you’ve _always_ known who I am,” he said lowly.

“Sam…” Dean squeezed his eyes shut, clenching his fist tightly in front of his mouth. “ _Sammy_ …” his voice cracked.

The boy sighed in relief, a smile stretching across his face as he crouched down in front of his brother, placing a hand on his cheek. “Hi, Dee,” he whispered before fading into the darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Biggest plot twist in my opinion: Dean has been able to see Sam the whole time.

**Author's Note:**

> There will be lots of plot twists ahead! Please comment your theories and ideas; I love to hear them.


End file.
